


Defining Bill Cipher: A Tale of Hormones, Sleepless Nights, and Overdue Debts

by Athina_Blaine



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 174,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athina_Blaine/pseuds/Athina_Blaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 19-year-old Dipper and Mabel Pines move back into the Mystery Shack after their Grunkle retires, the return of Bill Cipher threatens to upset the peace of the town. That is, until he makes a peculiar request.</p><p><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7156226/chapters/16247708">Russian</a> translation available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bill Cipher, the One and Only

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Личность Билла Сайфера: Повесть о гормонах, бессонных ночах и просроченных долгах - Defining Bill Cipher: A tale of hormones, sleepless nights and overdue debts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156226) by [MirrorGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorGirl/pseuds/MirrorGirl)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt thanks to my editor and friend. Without them, this would still be a one-shot featuring snuggles and toothpaste ingestion. This story owes them everything.
> 
>  **Canon Divergence:** Bill never returned after the events of Sock Opera.

Mabel ordered her third cup of coffee and watched with a drowsy smile as the waiter returned behind the counter. _Ehehe. He had a kitten sticker on his apron._ The aroma of the freshly ground coffee beans eased her into a warm, soothing doze. 

“Hey, Mabel.”

She roused from her dozing and her face brightened. The man before her smiled in return, and her stomach erupted with butterflies. _Urghh, he’s so cute. I just want to squash his face in my hands and make baby noises._

“I was wondering when you were coming back." She gawked at the pastry in her date’s hand. “Wow, that cake looks amazing. Sprinkles and rainbow icing. Great find.”

The man took a seat, setting the three-layered marble cake between them. Mabel cut herself a slice and moaned as she took a bite. “This is too good. I didn’t even know they _made_ cakes here.”

He smiled. “Oh, they don’t.”

She quirked a brow at the comment, but then her drink arrived. After taking a look at her beverage, however, she frowned. “Oh, _boo_. They forgot about my glitter. I specifically remembering ordering glitter with my coffee.”

“That’s horrible.” His voice was anguished. Standing, he took Mabel’s yellow cup. “I’ll take care of this.”

He left, leaving Mabel to her cake. She took another few bites, thanking sweet Moses for cute boys and hot beverages. _I haven’t seen him since that class we shared in high school._

Mabel leaned back in her chair, admiring the other patrons of the café. An alicorn and a pegapig were discussing something about elected officials or whatever. The pegapig was deeply upset. Mabel tried eavesdropping, but the harder she listened the more muffled the voices became. She gave up, turning back to her table

_He sure is taking his time._

Craning her neck, Mabel glanced at the counter. The waiter with the kitten sticker wasn’t there. Neither was her art class boy. All of the coffee shop patrons had disappeared, leaving Mabel alone with her half-eaten marble cake.

Half-eaten? _Wait a second._

Mabel looked closely at her cake. The pastry had been restored. She couldn’t even taste the chocolate on her tongue anymore.

Something was wrong.

A harsh spear of light exploded from the cake. Mabel screamed and tried to jump out of her seat, but found herself glued down. Light fanned the café, bleeding out the color until only an endless plane of gray remained. In the center of the cake, a single, yellow eye slit open.

An intense, golden flash encompassed Mabel’s vision. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, withstanding the blast of energy as it collected into one triangular demonic dream demon.

“HERE HE IS, THE ONE AND ONLY.”

Mabel cracked open an eye. She screamed at the sight of the sharply dressed geometric figure. The demon tipped his hat as if it were any other visit. “That’s right. Glad to see you haven’t forgotten me, Shooting Star. It’s been _ages_.”

Mabel continued screaming, jumping in her chair. She screamed so hard her throat hurt. Bill watched, blinking occasionally. When she finally ran out of air, he said, “So as I was saying, it’s been _ages_ Star. You’re looking pretty good—”

Mabel took a deep breath and kept screaming.

Bill snapped his fingers and Mabel’s mouth closed like a zipper. She shook and snorted furiously, bouncing in the chair. Bill watched, torn between amusement and frustration.

“I’m just trying to have a conversation, Star. You’ve got to work with me here. Neither of us has time for this.” With another snap, Mabel’s mouth was freed. She smacked her lips, glaring at the demon.

“I don’t have to do anything. This is _my_ dream, and I want you out.”

“ _Your_ dream? I’m the one that set everything up for you, Star. I was sure to include everything you liked. If you had waited a bit longer, the pig with wings would’ve started dancing the polka.”

Mabel froze. “You did all that?” _The boy from my old art class. The café over the lake. It all makes sense._ The idea that Bill had dug into her mind in order to recreate her fantasy sunk in her stomach like a cold rock. _How dare he? That freaking creep._

Bill didn’t seem aware of her anger, tipping his hat once more.

“Sure did. I have to say, though, your dreams are usually way more interesting than this. I’m noticing a distinct lack of nonsensical color placement.” Bill lowered himself to her eye level. “Now, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. You’re a busy woman with a dream to get back to, and I’d hate to impose.”

“Why would I listen to you? After what you did to my brother and grunkle?”

“Aw, don’t tell me you guys are still sore about that business. That was _years_ ago.”

"Now you’re coming for me, aren’t you? Couldn’t go without messing with _all_ the Pines family?” Mabel bucked so hard her chair flipped backward. It spun on an axis before abruptly righting itself. “ _Will someone get me out of this thing?_ "

Bill snapped his fingers again and Mabel shot up so fast her head spun. Groaning, she leaned against the shadowed table and rubbed her temples. “Ugh, finally." Bill crinkled his eye. Is he supposed to be smiling?  _Creepy._

“Don’t you worry, Star, this will only take a minute.”

Bill clapped his hands and the world around them melted away. When everything reformed, Mabel recognized the empty laboratory hidden behind the Mystery Shack’s vending machine. 

“Here’s the situation, Star. Due to some unfortunate circumstances, I find myself in a bit of a bind—”

“No.”

Bill blinked, moving a few inches away from her. Mabel straightened up, trying to forget the fact that she was yelling at Bill, the all-powerful dream demon that could turn her into a three-headed frog.

“I know what you’ve been trying to do. You’re trying to butter me up. It won’t work, I won’t listen to anything you have to say, Bill.”

Bill narrowed his eye and Mabel's throat closed up. Oh god, it's frog time. The second passed, however, and Bill tilted stiffly towards her.

“Look, kid, I know we’ve had some issues in the past, but this is kind of urgent—”

“I don’t care.” Mabel covered her ears. “I can’t _hear_ you. _Laa la la, la la la laa—_ ”

“Shooting Star, you need to—”

Throwing up her hands, Mabel stormed away from the floating triangle. She began to furiously pinch her hand. Bill floated after her. “Wake up, wake up, wake up. _La la la la._ ”

“That isn’t going to work. If you could—”

“ _LA LA LAA LA—_ ”

“ENOUGH.”

The entire plane turned bright red and Bill’s eye pulsated with fury. Mabel cowered. Being turned into a frog would be a best-case scenario at this point.

The red melted away and Bill's eye returned to normal. “It appears this talk will have to wait. But I just want to make one thing very clear, Star: This. Is. Important.”

Mabel held her trembling hands behind her back. “Sure it is, Bill. Now let me out of here.”

Bill stared at her for a moment, his eye narrowed in thought. Then, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

With a strangled shout, Mabel shot up in her bed. Sweat soaked her pajamas. The bedroom was empty and dark, save for the moonlight.

Struggling to take a full breath of air, she collapsed into her pillow.  _Just a dream, it was just a dream. A terrifyingly vivid dream._

Oh, who was she kidding? Bill Cipher, their age-old adversary, had paid her a visit. What could he possibly want after all this time? Why did he show her the old laboratory?

Mabel glanced at her clock. 5:53 AM. Friggin Bill Cipher. Couldn’t he wait another few hours? Since dreaming was the last thing she wanted to do, she flipped off her sheets and crawled out of bed. A drafty breeze cut through her and she curled up, shivering.

Throwing on a sweater and some slippers, she headed to the living room and slumped on the couch. She flipped on the TV, staring at the screen as she waited for the sun to rise and her brother with it.

…

"Mornin’ Mabel.”

She responded to her brother with a very un-Mabel-y grunt. Dipper, ever observant, looked over his shoulder. “Everything alright? You looked wrecked.”

Mabel shrugged. “I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep. So I came up here to watch some television.” She wanted coffee, but coffee made her think of cafe's and cafe's made her think of her dream and _blch_. “It was nothing but fighting shows and infomercials.”

“Well, that's sucky.” Dipper whipped up a quick bowl of cereal, asking Mabel if she would like one (she grumbled negatively), before sitting down next to her on the couch. “Anything stressing you out?”

 _You have no idea._  Mabel bit her lip. _I need to tell him. We’re both in danger with Bill lurking around. Dipper knows better than anyone how to defend against all this mystical stuff. But._

They had only been back at the Shack for two weeks now. Two weeks and already the worst case scenario had happened. She was reluctant to break the spell.

It's been almost a year since their Grunkle Stan had visited them in California with surprising news. “I’m retiring to a cozy resort down in good old Hawaii,” he had said with a wide grin. “A whole new crowd of dummies to con.”

Among the many presents they received for their 19th birthday that year, one of them had been the keys to the Mystery Shack. “You could trash the old place if you want to," Stan had said, looking sheepish. "I don’t care. It’s your decision to make _._ ”

When summer arrived, the mystery twins arrived with it. With Wendy at college in Portland and Soos living with Melody and Mabel taking online classes, they had to reduce the Shack's hours of operations. While they finished every workday exhausted, they were happy and having fun.

_At least until now._

"Oh, uh. Yeah, I guess. I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk about it right now."

Dipper quirked a brow, but then, and Mabel wasn’t sure if she was just imagining it, his expression turned dark. Almost as if he knew something. The expression vanished if it was even there, and Dipper returned to his cereal. _You’re just panicking, Mabel._

"Okay, take your time. Wake me up next time you can't sleep, okay? I could make you some tea.”

“ _Psh._ Like I would drink _tea_. Hah! Tea? Like, what even is that?” Mabel laughed, struggling to sound casual. Dipper scrunched his nose.

“I’m sorry you have no taste when it comes to hot beverages, sis.” He became serious again. “Honestly, you can wake me up. We can play games or something.”

“Thanks, bro-bro. Hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

 Dipper smiled. “Hopefully.”

She tried to smile back but felt sick. She hated lying to him, but as much as she hated lying, she hated seeing him worry even more. The return of Bill Cipher would do more than worry him.

She had to tell him. Who knows what Bill was planning?

Maybe it was nothing at all. Maybe it really was just some wild dream?

Unlikely, although possible.

Still, Dipper had the right to know if there was even a hint of danger. She couldn’t keep a secret so big from him.

Mabel breathed slowly through her nose.

Tomorrow. She’ll see if Bill returns tonight and if he does, then she'll tell Dipper. They can enjoy the magic of the Shack together for one more day.

With her decision made, her mood lightened. Best case scenario, Bill would take the hint and never come back. 

…

Onboard the Sundae Train, Conductor Mabel Pines received a message from one of her penguin waiting staff. A passenger required her attention. She informed her co-captain to take over manning the train as she investigated.

When she reached the final passenger cart, she was greeted by one of the penguins, a dapper chap named Wilfred. “A client has lodged a complaint, your grace,” he said. “A fellow named Bill Cipher.”

At the sound of the name, Mabel snapped into lucidity.  _My co-captain is a walrus. I’m talking to a penguin. Why are all of my dreams so weird?_ When she remembered who else was apparently on her train, she frowned. “Figures. I’ll take care of this. Thanks for the heads up.”

The penguin bowed and Mabel turned to the door. When she opened it, she froze. Over a dozen eyes locked onto her the moment she opened the door, and in perfect unison at least 20 Bills declared, “Nice ride you got here Star.”

Mabel screamed and slammed the door shut.

“Disconnect the cart,” she ordered the staff. “Throw it off a cliff. Into a ditch. I don’t care how!”

The staff nodded and she charged up to the front of the train, imagining the biggest lock on every door she passed. After securing the final door that leads to the front of the train, she slumped against the wall, her heart pounding. Her co-captain didn’t ask, focused on operating the train’s wheel with his blubbery flippers.

Mabel waited for a solid ten seconds. _It’s okay. You locked all the doors and the penguins are taking care of the cart as we speak. Everything’s going to be oka—_

“Is that any way to treat a paying customer, Star?”

Mabel jumped up and gasped. The demon had appeared outside her window, floating alongside a train. He kicked backed and twirled his cane about. “You know what they say, the customer’s always right.”

Huffing, Mabel stormed to the window. The dream world sped by with Bill perfectly intact. “Staff courtesy doesn’t apply to dream invaders, Bill. And speaking of courtesy, can you go _one_ visit without one of your weird entrances? Cake? Clones? What’s next, electric sheep? Stop trying to psych me out!”

“Whoa, easy there, Star,” Bill held up his hands in submission. “I forgot that humans have a delicate sense of humor. Dramatic entrances are my thing.”

“Well, make it _not_ your thing.”

“Look, it’s over and done with, the entrance was made. No use crying over spilled blood. Let’s get down to business.”

Mabel straightened up, as did Bill (as much as a triangle could, anyway). Despite only having one eye, Bill’s stare was surprisingly unwavering. But Mabel could handle it. She grew up with her great-uncle Stan, after all, and his stares could freeze lava.

“Hey,” she spoke over her shoulder. Her blubbery co-captain stood attention. “Can you give us a minute?” He made some incoherent walrus-y noise before stepping out. Bill’s gaze trailed after it.

“Now these are the dreams of yours I was talking about, Star. You got your weird colors, impossible machinery, sapient animal. I would have recommended capuchin monkeys as the waiting staff, though. Those have always been a big hit in your other dreams.”

Did he ever stop running his mouth? “I don’t even want you to _talk_ about my dreams. I can’t believe you redid my private fantasies in order to manipulate me. Uncool. That’s low, even for you.”

“No, it isn’t." He laughed.

“ _Bill_.”

“Look, Star.” He was suddenly behind her. Mabel whirled around. “I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times. I’ve got something important I need to say. All I want is to talk to you and your brother.”

She crossed her arms. “ _Just_ talk?”

He narrowed his eye. “It’s a start.”

Mabel sighed. _I’m already going to tell Dipper about this tomorrow. At least I could possibly get some more info this way. I just won’t make a deal with him._ “Fine. I’ll let you talk. No promises on anything else.”

Seeming to perk up, Bill tapped his cane and bounced into the air. “Like I said, it’s a start.” He snapped his fingers and time froze. Color drained from the world around her, and Mabel once again found herself in the Mindscape.

“Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, I’ve accumulated quite a lot of power over the years. However, that power has limitations. Anything in the physical world is strictly off limits.”

“Unless you have a vessel." How could she forget? She had nightmares about the Bipper incident for weeks.

Bill nodded. “Correct. This limitation has proved, well, less than helpful, especially when most of what I need is on your turf.”

The puzzle pieces clicked. “You want us to get you a _body_? You have the nerve to ask that? After what you did to my brother?”

“Not the same situation, Star. No, what I need is something a little more permanent.”

“And whyexactly do you need one?”

“Multiple reasons. All of which I can’t discuss. But it is critical.”

“You've got to be kidding me. First, you have the nerve to ask me and my brother to get you a body, and then you won’t even tell me the reason _why_?”

“It’s confidential.”

That smarmy little cretin! “Forget it. There’s no way my brother would ever want to help you get a body, especially if you won’t even tell him why he should.” She stormed past him, and, at last, Bill started to panic. 

“See, that’s why _you_ need to talk to him. He’ll listen to you, Star. If you could just make him—”

So that's why Bill's seemed to take such a shine to her lately; he wanted her to soften Dipper up. It made sense. Bill had tormented her the least. She shuddered, anger and disgust broiling in her stomach.

“Tough luck, Cipher. If you want my brother, you’re going to have to talk to him yourself.” She returned to the train’s wheel. “Now get out of my head. I have a REM cycle to finish.”

Bill's eye burned into her back. After several tense moments passed, she heard a slow exhale. When she glanced over, Bill had returned to floating outside the window.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Star. This isn't the end of things, just so you know, but I can take a hint.” He paused, seeming to consider something, before saying, “And sorry about the coffee shop.”

He vanished. Color snapped back into her world and the train resumed its course. The edges of her vision fizzled and she could feel her lucidity dwindle, but she kept her gaze on the now empty window. With a small sigh, she mumbled, “Apology accepted, I guess,” before succumbing to her dream.

…

This time, she woke up with the sun high in the sky. Much better.

She flipped off the covers and stretched, yawning. For a moment, she couldn’t remember why it felt like she had eaten a large, cold rock. _Could it be the spicy burrito I ate last night? Dipper warned me, but I didn’t—_

The dream came rushing back. _Cipher. Body. Dipper. Need to talk._

She shot out of bed. Her brother usually woke up before she did so she headed towards the kitchen. There was a bowl in the sink. Dipper had already eaten breakfast.  _He’s not in his room, he’s not in the living room. Where the heck is he?_

On a whim, she checked the gift shop area and found Dipper on his hands and knees attacking the floor with a scrub brush. Her concern flared. “Dipper, what are you doing?”

Dipper looked up from his work, surprised to see Mabel in the door. He tried to cover his strained expression by wiping his brow, but Mabel wasn’t fooled. “I figured since I had tours off today I could get started with cleaning. There were a few complaints about stains”

“Bro-bro, you have enough back strain crouching over your manuscript all day."

Dipper stood, popping several joints in his back as he did so. Mabel’s frown deepened. “It’s okay, it’s not too much for me to handle. I just wanted to get a head start on chores before the shop opened.” Mabel was silent, but Dipper was a pro at reading her expressions. “Are you okay?”

_No, I'm not okay. You’re going to run yourself into the ground trying to fix this place up. Meanwhile, there’s a dream demon lurking in our heads wanting us to take up body snatching. I am the exact opposite of okay._

Taking a deep breath, she said, “There’s something I haven’t been telling you.”

…

As she told her story, Dipper's face darkened. "Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?"

She hesitated. The excuses she had sounded silly now.

“You know how dangerous Bill is," Dipper said. "What if he did something to you on either of those nights? I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“I know. I was being selfish. I just hated the idea of stepping all over your happiness, bro.”

“It’s not about my feelings, Mabel. It’s about having each other’s back and protecting each other.”

“I know.” Mabel hid her face behind her hands in shame. "It's just we've only been here for two weeks. I didn't want to, like, jinx anything."

"Well. Too late for that." Dipper glared down at his hands. "What else did he say?"

She continued her summary of the last two dreams. When she brought up the favor, Dipper stood up from his chair, bristling.

“He wants us to do _what_?”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

He paced around, scrubbing the stubble on his jaw. “A body? He’d ask us to- I can’t _believe_ he thinks we would even _consider_ it! What does he want us to do? Dig up a corpse at the cemetery? Kidnap someone in town?”

“He said it would be different this time. Something about it being ‘more permanent’.” A thought struck her. “What if he’s trying to become human? Like, _become_ become human?”

“Bill thinks human are scum. Playthings, at best.” Even as he said it, Dipper stopped pacing. His brow furrowed in thought. “It makes no sense. Why would he want to stoop to our level? And why ask us?”

“Maybe he’s looking for something?”

"But why would he need a permanent body?"

“Maybe he’s in legal demon trouble and he needs a place to crash?”

"That’s ridiculous."

Crossing her arms, Mabel leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know, bro-bro. You’re going to have to ask him yourself.”

“As if.”

“Bill isn’t going to give up on whatever it is he wants. So either you have a banishment spell in those journals of yours, or you confront him. Bite off the snail’s head, or whatever.”

“It’s ‘bite off the _snake’s_ head’. And that doesn’t even apply.” Dipper brought a thumb to his lip. “There is no banishment spell in the journals, but there is a summoning spell.”

An old memory resurfaced in Mabel’s mind. “Is it like the spell Gideon used to bring Bill here in the first place?”

“Almost. The spell would be the same, but we’d have a binding circle to keep him contained. He wouldn’t be able to leave the circle until we say he can, and he can’t mess with anything outside the boundaries. We would be confronting him on our own terms. It doesn't mean we’re gonna go body snatching, but it couldn't hurt to clear some things up."

"Okay. Let’s do it.”

…

Just when Dipper had thought things were working out, that insufferable demon had to crop up his annoying, pointy head. Leave it to Bill.

Bill Cipher. Back in Gravity Falls. It's been _years_ since anyone's even heard from him. He still remembered the sensation of his soul being ripped from his body.

Shaking himself, he returned to the floors, scrubbing a stubborn bit of mold in-between the cracks of the wooden tile. One good thing about the crumbling state of the Mystery Shack was that there was never any shortage of tedious work to be done. _Plenty of chores to get my mind off of an omnipotent demon that likely wants to kill me, who I’m summoning in, oh, five hours—_

The self-torture went on until the afternoon shadows crept over the shop. The final batch of tourists drove away in their minivans with lightened wallets and Mabel locked the gift shop door with a content, if tired, smile.

She looked to Dipper as he crouched on the floor, and he could see the brief flash of concern flit through her eyes before she tried to smother it. He thought for sure she was about to make some comment about his fragility, but she surprised him with, “You ready for some demon summoning?”

His stomach stirred with renewed unease. Tossing the rag into the soapy bucket, he stood as fast as he could without groaning. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

While Mabel changed into more comfortable clothing, Dipper grabbed Journal No. 2 and a backpack of prepared ingredients from his room. They met on the porch and set out to a predetermined spot within the woods. Dipper reviewed the summoning notes, searing every word and warning into his brain. Mabel strolled beside him, humming under her breath.

“How can you be so calm right now?”

“Hmm? Who?” Mabel pulled away from her train of thought to look at Dipper.

“You. You’re so relaxed.”

“I guess. Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“We’re about to summon one of our most dangerous enemies, Mabel. How can you _not_?”

“Yeah, but didn’t you say he can’t do anything outside of the circle?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Besides, I don’t think he’s gonna try anything anyway.”

Dipper froze in his tracks, bringing both of them to a halt. He stared at his sister with wide eyes. She continued without prompting, “Whatever it is Bill wants, he wants it bad enough that he won’t jeopardize it by getting us angry. Besides,” she smacked his arm, winking. “We’ve managed to outsmart that twit every time he was up to no good. This time will be no different.”

There were still about a million things that could go wrong, but it was hard to get distressed with his sister next to him. _She’s right. Whatever Bill has up his sleeve, we can handle it._

They reached the designated clearing. Dipper scratched the rune in the dirt while Mabel propped the candles where her brother directed. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he linked the final letter. Mabel stood at the circle’s edge, waiting. Dipper took care not to smudge anything as he joined her, flipping the journal open to Bill Cipher’s page.

“Okay. I’m going to start the spell. If anything goes wrong, blow out the candles or smudge the circle. It’ll break the demon’s tether to the physical world.” Mabel nodded, expression steeled. With that said, Dipper returned to the journal. He took a deep, steadying breath.  _Here goes nothing._

“ _Triangulum. Entangulum._ ” He licked his lips, trying to quell his rising apprehension. Mabel gripped his forearm. “ _Veneforis dominus ventium. Veneforis venetisarium._ ”

Pain struck him. His insides curled up and he collapsed to his knees, dropping the journal. A great, stringent noise rang in his ears. He couldn’t even hear Mabel shouting next to him. His immediate thought was that he’d messed up somehow and they were both going to die due to his inadequacy. But then, as if something else had taken control of his body, he began chanting against his will. He trembled, voice hoarse as he struggled for breath. Beneath him, the color drained from the grass and dirt. The world around them slowed to a crawl. 

They made it.

A familiar laugh pierced the unmoving air, a laugh that crawled over Dipper’s skin and dredged up countless, old nightmares. He couldn’t stop the shudder that rolled over his body.

Bill continued laughing long after the summoning was complete. Dipper trembled on the forest floor, Mabel crouched beside him.

“What’s so funny, Cipher?” she said.

“Oh, nothing. _Everything._ It'sbeen some time, though, hasn’t it Pine Tree?”

Dipper gritted his teeth at the stupid nickname. With his legs still feeling like jelly, he made himself stand up. When he managed to find balance on his two shaking legs, tucking the journal into his vest, he found the triangle inspecting the runes of the summoning circle.

Same hat. Same bow tie. Same eye. Same voice. _He really hasn’t changed after all this time._

Bill laughed once more. “Nice binding circle you got here, kid. You’ve done your homework. That Gideon kid didn’t even have proper pronunciation when he summoned me, much less a binding circle. Still,” he floated as close as he dared to the twins. “That’s some powerful magic. It could’ve killed both you and Shooting Star if you messed up. All that risk, just for me. I’m flattered.”

“Shut up,” Dipper snapped, irritation leaking into his voice.  “Why have you been invading my sister’s dreams? Why do you want a body when you could just get one yourself? Why are you back in—”

“Whoa, _whoa_ , kid, easy with the questions, I just got here. Don’t you wanna catch up with your old friend?”

Tightening his fist, Dipper prepared another bout of questions when Mabel touched his shoulder. She stared at him.  _I shouldn’t be losing my head. Not now._ Taking a deep breath, Dipper nodded and backed off.

Turning to the demon, Mabel stepped forward. “Bill, you have something you wanted to talk to us about. Something about getting a body. If you want us to help you, now’s the time to tell us.”

“Not that we’ve agreed to help,” Dipper said. Bill considered them from his spot in the air, scrutinizing them with a gaze that knew more secrets of the universe than all of humanity combined. Dipper swallowed thickly.

“Well, I hate to cut the reunion short, but you’ve got a point, Star. Time is of the essence. As both of you are aware, I’m sure, I find myself indeed of a personal meatsack.”

“A _human body_?” Dipper said through gritted teeth.

“That too.”

“And why do you need a human body so badly? Why ask us?”

“Well, I’m glad you asked, Pine Tree. There are three reasons, to be exact. Reason number one. It isn’t enough just to borrow someone else’s body, since, as you both know, I’ll be forced out the second I fall unconscious. The things I need to do require I stay on the physical plane for a while, so I need a handcrafted body made just for me that won’t kick me to the curb.

“Reason number two.” Snapping his fingers, Bill summoned an image of a dark, spacious room. _The old portal room,_ Dipper realized with a jolt. “You two knuckleheads happen to be situated over a pretty sizable tear in dimensional space. This ritual ain’t cheap in energy, and if it’s going to have a chance of succeeding, it’s got to happen there.” He snapped his fingers again and the image disappeared.

“And finally, Pine Tree here is one of the most capable meatsacks I know regarding rituals. I don’t have enough time to cozy up to someone more competent, and the fact that you’re already living over that old tear makes it all the more convenient.”

Despite himself, he felt a touch of pride at Cipher’s words.  _Does he mean that? No, doesn't matter. He's just stroking my ego._  “None of that answers why we should help you, Bill. At all.”

“For once it isn’t my goal to give the Pines family a run for their money. Help me get a body and you have my word that you and Star are safe from me.”

“So just because you won’t go after my family means we should unleash you on the world? Do you think I’m insane?”

“Listen, Pine Tree,” Bill narrowed his eye. “Nothing’s preventing me from messing with you humans right now. I can level this town if I really wanted. Besides, once I’m properly situated, I won’t even have access to the Mindscape anymore. I’ll be completely powerless and pathetic. Like you! You’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Dipper gaped. "You'd give up your powers just to be human?"

"Nice job saying the thing that I just said two seconds ago, Pine Tree."

Dipper and Mabel traded an astonished look. A Bill with no more Mindscape powers? If Bill was telling the truth, that would be  _huge._

“Not to mention,” Mabel said, “we could use an extra pair of hands to help around the Shack.”

"Mabel, we could be potentially removing one of the most dangerous creatures in the world and you're thinking about chores?"

She shrugged. "I worry about your back, bro."

Shaking his head, he looked back up at Bill. “How do we even know you're telling the truth? You’ve lied to us in the past. You tried to break my great uncle’s mind. You stole my body from me. How can we trust you?"

“Wait, _wait,_ Pine Tree, hear me out—”

Dipper tuned out the babble and turned to Mabel. He couldn’t commit to a decision without her input. Mabel stared at Bill, a thumb pressed against her lip.

“—don’t know what you’re giving up here. I’m offering you a premium deal; just think, with a human body, I’ll never pop up in your dreams again-”

“Bill,” Mabel cut through his rambling. “You mentioned something about not having enough time. Why are you running out of time?”

It was apparently a question Bill didn’t want to be asked. His voice wavered. “Because, I’m. Well, how exactly do you word it? There were some, events, that happened and- You see, I’m, I’m not-”

“Get to the point,” Dipper said. Was Bill actually nervous about something?

Bill was silent, waging a mental battle, before breathing out in one long sigh, “Because if I don’t land myself a permanent human body, I’m going to die.”

Mabel made a noise of surprise. Dipper stiffened. Bill didn’t seem to be affected by their reactions, tapping his cane in thought. “Well, _cease to exist_ would be a better term for it, but that’s the gist of things. I’m desperate, you get it? Why else would I want to associate with you meatsacks? It’s not for your wonderful cuisines, I’ll tell you that much.”

 _He’ll die? I didn’t even know he was capable of that._ He blinked and rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off his shock “How would getting a body prevent you from dying?”

“Simple. You humans are isolated from the Mindscape and as of now, the Mindscape isn’t the safest place to be. It’s the equivalent of swimming to a deserted island in order to get out of the water, get it?”

“And how do we know you’re not lying to us?”

Bill stared at them, looking tired. “You don’t. The only thing I can do is assure you is that if you don’t help me, I’m gone. You sack of bones are my last hope.”

Without thinking, Dipper took his foot and dragged it through the dirt of the summoning circle. Bill vanished, and color snapped back into the world. Time moved forward. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Dipper turned around and started walking back to the Mystery Shack.

After a few moments, Mabel trotted up next to him, the blown out candles in her arms. Dipper sighed, ducking his head. “Sorry about that. I just couldn’t listen to it anymore.”

“Don’t worry, I understand. It’s a lot to take in.”

They walked in silence, both lost in their own minds. Dipper shook himself, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to think at all.“That was the absolute last thing I was expecting, though.”

“What? Him dying?”

“Yeah.”

Mabel hummed in thought. “I guess. It does make sense, after all. Why he hasn’t tried to hurt us, why he's been trying to butter me up first. It’s like whenever we went to Dad to ask him something when Mom already said no.”

Dipper’s lips twisted, but he didn’t actually smile. “Do you think we should trust him?”

“I think he’s telling the truth. I think if we don’t help him, he’s going to, well, you know.”

“You think we should help him?”

Mabel hummed, looking away. Dipper exhaled sharply through his nose. “After all the things he did to us? All the things he did to _me_?”

“I don't know. You're right. He did horrible things. But he’ll die if we don’t help him. That’s what I think.” Dipper fell silent. Mabel continued, “He needs you more than he needs me, bro-bro. All I’m saying is that I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth.”

He valued his sister’s judgment more than anyone else’s, more than his own. If she thought he wasn't lying ...

The two didn’t speak for the remainder of the walk. When they got back to the Shack, Dipper retreated to his room and didn’t emerge for the rest of the evening. Mabel didn't bother him and he appreciated that.

…

Dipper wasn’t surprised when Bill made his appearance that night.

The dream’s setting was an empty movie theater. Dipper was eating popcorn that tasted like cherries when he felt a presence in the chair next to him. He didn’t look over.

“You’re really that desperate, are you?” he asked.

“Eeyup. No other way to say it.”

Silence. Images started flickering on the screen. A boy with yellow eyes. A sock opera. Dipper looked down at his hands. “My sister thinks you’re telling the truth.”

“I don’t think I’ve met a human with as strong an intuition as Shooting Star. Well, there was that one French guy with the apothecary, but I’m pretty sure he had a demon helping him.”

“Really? There are demons that actually help people?”

“Sure, there are. What, you have one bad experience and that makes _all_ of demonhood bad? Don’t be so prejudiced, Pine Tree.”

Dipper smiled without humor. “What can I say? It was a pretty traumatic incident.” More images. A boy curled up under his bedsheets. Broken dreams centered on a colorless, distorted triangle. The screen washed-out.

“Hear me out, Pine Tree.” Bill floated before him, holding out his hands. “If you perform the ritual and give me a body, I’ll be at your level. Worse, even. You think I know how you humans use those limbs of yours? You can put me down if I cause trouble without breaking a sweat. Not to imply that I would cause trouble.”

 _That’s true. He wouldn’t have the Mindscape anymore. I could control him. If he doesn’t stab us in our sleep, that is._ Dipper frowned.

As if reading his mind (a frightening possibility), Bill continued, “After all, why would I _want_ to cause trouble? I wouldn’t last a day on my own. What’s considered ‘acceptable’ to you humans changes at the drop of a hat. I’ll be helpless. Like a newborn puppy, only with more wit and charm.”

“Please. Like you’re more charming than a puppy.”

“What are you talking about? Look at me. My eye is my face, my face is my body, and my body is the simplest geometric shape. I’m efficient. What’s not charming about that? Puppies are a chunky mess compare to me.”

“Whatever you say, Bill.” Dipper looked down into his popcorn.

After a long moment, he rose from his seat. “I want a full in-depth analysis of this ritual. Purposes of ingredients, translations, everything. If you leave anything out, you can forget our help. You also have to help out at the Shack,” he added, remembering Mabel’s earlier words. “Doing chores or anything else we tell you.”

“Deal.” Bill held out his hand. Dipper stared at it for a good moment before tucking his hands into his pocket. Bill retracted the offer. “Right. I got ya, Pine Tree. No handshakes.”

Rolling his eyes, Dipper took his hand and drew an ‘X’ over his heart. “If the ritual checks out and Mabel agrees, I’ll help you get a body. If you’re lying to us, or you try to hurt either my sister or me …”

“Yes! Of course, whatever you say, Pine Tree.” He copied Dipper’s gesture of faith. _I wonder if it counts when they don’t have a heart,_ he mulled, before deciding it didn’t matter. If this thing went sour, Dipper would make sure nobody regretted it more than Bill.

Bill floated high over Dipper’s head, seeming to perk up. “Pleasure doing business with you Pine Tree, as always. This ritual of mine is right up your alley, so I know you’ll have fun with it.” He blinked emphatically. “You can’t tell, but I’m winking at you. See you later, kid.”

Dipper woke up. Sunlight poured through the open windows of his makeshift office. Right, he had been working on his new book’s outline when he fell asleep. An uneasy feeling sank in his gut as the dream came back to him. _I can’t believe I’m doing this. I still wouldn’t be if Mabel didn’t think_ —

Mabel. She’ll need to know about this.

Rising from his chair, popping several joints in his body, Dipper readied to leave his office when he saw it. The entirety of both of his arms was covered in blue scrawling. _What is this? I didn’t do this!_ He tilted his head, getting a better look. _These are notes. For the ritual? How could they have gotten here? Who did—?_

_Bill._

Sucking his teeth, Dipper ignored the writings and continued out the door.

 _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it …_    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).)
> 
> Stay thirsty, my friends.


	2. Bill Cipher, the Meatsack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ritual, a bloody nose, and an Italian dinner. Bill adapts to his new body.

It took about three days to decipher the ritual notes scattered all over Dipper’s body. It really wouldn’t have taken so long if they had been concise. Instead, they were littered with cryptic phrasing (it took an hour to figure out ‘ _stick of white limestone_ ’ was referring to chalk) and various drawings of farm animals.

Dipper would have been more upset of his body being the canvas (though he was still upset. He hadn’t been allowed to shower during that time, and had to wear long-sleeved shirts to avoid the customers' scrutiny) if the ritual hadn’t fascinated him.

Bill hadn’t been exaggerating. It was one of the most complex rituals Dipper had ever seen. Nothing in the journals even held a candle. The runes were unfamiliar and the tools necessary were bizarre.  _A cloth dummy? Water from the mouth of the river?_

Once the notes were properly transcribed in Journal No. 3 (courtesy of Mabel, who had neater handwriting and didn’t have to lift her shirt to get another section of the notes), Dipper studied them for the better part of two days. Thankfully, the binding circle spell made a good reference to help him understand. Both involved the binding of energy to a specific plane of existence. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect fit, but Dipper would take what he would get.

Everything checked out. The ritual seemed to do exactly what Bill said it would.

Well, the easy part was over. Now, it was time to figure out what to do next.

Dipper and Mabel discussed it at length during dinner. They decided he would stay with them at the Mystery Shack, where it would be easy to keep an eye on him. Keep your enemies closer, as it were. If anyone asked, the story would be that he was an employee who moved in from out of town.

With the notes secured, Dipper scrubbed his skin raw in the shower until the pen markings were gone. That night, he lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. They were going to start preparing the ritual tomorrow. Soon, Bill was going to be human. The concept seemed outrageous.

It took them another week to gather the ingredients and tools. Mabel wasn’t happy that the ritual required they pilfer her stock of expensive charcoal pencils, but she handed them over without too much complaining. Dipper had to trek forty minutes into the woods to reach where the river met the lake, storing the water in a glass jar. When his sister told him how much the mannequin would cost, Dipper spat up his tea.

Bill had better be thankful he wasn’t getting paid, otherwise, this would be coming out of his check.

By the end of the first week of July, they were ready.

They went down to the old laboratory. Dipper scratched the runes with chalk on the floor as Mabel carried everything else down. He looked up from his work when she arrived with the mannequin thrown over her shoulder. He sighed.

“Mabel, why did you put a sweater on the mannequin?”

“Eh? Oh, that’s—”

“And pants? Are those  _mine_?”

“It’s cold down here,” Mabel said. “When he gets in his body, he’ll be butt naked. This way he’ll be nice and warm, not to mention decent.”

“I still need to draw the binding marks on the mannequin, Mabel. Besides, when it catches fire your sweater’s going to be ruined anyway. Wait until after the ritual’s over.” Mabel scrunched up her nose, still unsatisfied. Dipper groaned. “But if it bothers you that much just look the other way. I doubt Bill will care if you see him naked.”

Snorting, Mabel flung the faceless dummy into the center of the triangle. She grumbled something about “ _boys_ ” under her breath as she removed the articles of clothing. She tucked them under her arm and stood at the front of the room with arms crossed.

With the runes complete, Dipper turned his attention to the mannequin. With one of Mabel’s charcoal pencils, he inscribed the circular binding marks on its wrists, insteps, upper arms, the top of its back, and over its heart. After a final flourish of his hand, he backed away, eyes tracing every line of chalk. He pulled out the journal from his vest pocket, making sure everything was in order.

“I think that’s it,” he mumbled, biting his thumb. He couldn’t help the feeling that he had missed something. “Light the candles. I’ll start the incantation.”

As Mabel placed the candles around the triangle, Dipper imagined Bill watching them from his place in the Mindscape. Was he laughing as his evil plan came to fruition? ‘ _Those gullible meatsacks!_ ’ he would say. ‘ _They’ve fallen right into my trap!_ ’ Dipper could hear it in his mind with such clarity he had to look over his shoulder.

But maybe Bill was as stressed as he was.

Dipper nearly jumped when something brushed his arm. Mabel had returned, smiling gently. "We got this, bro,” she said, squeezing his upper arm.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, he wished he could be as confident in himself as his sister was in him.

He began.

“ _Daemonium video.  Id ligabo._ ” He grabbed a match and began lighting the candles. “ _In corpore ligabo.  In aeternum ligabo._ ” The candles started flickering. After taking one last, steadying breath, he tossed the match into the center of the rune as he finished the spell. “ _In corpore vivet.  In corpore morietur_.”

The mannequin was engulfed in fire. The flames spread, following the chalk lines until the entire rune was ablaze. The twins stepped back as the heat tickled their skin. Mabel squeezed Dipper’s arm in a bruising grip. He didn’t notice the pain.

The fire that overwhelmed the mannequin engorged, its tendrils licking the ceiling. The color of the flames snapped into bright blue. Bill was possessing the body. It was working.

The twins stood there, transfixed. The fire died down, starting with the edges of the triangle all the way back to the center.

The flames died.

A flesh body was lying on the floor.

Snapping his journal shut, Dipper pulled the jar of water out of his vest and approached the body, digging his fingers into its throat. No heartbeat.He placed a hand on its forehead, brushing aside the blonde hair. Cold. It may as well have been a corpse.

Dipper held up the jar. According to the notes, the body won’t wake up until after drinking water from the mouth of a river. It would stay like this, forever. Bill would stay like this. A cold, frozen corpse.

With shaking hands, he slowly undid the lid. His insides felt cold the longer he stared at the lifeless body. Eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Motionless. 

_He’s our enemy. He’s always been our enemy. I could … I could just leave … I could—_

“Is he awake yet?”

Mabel still wasn’t looking. Dipper blinked and shame washed over him. He was better than those kinds of dark thoughts.

Reaching down, he cupped the back of the body’s neck and slowly poured the water into its mouth. For a few moments, nothing happened. The body remained lifeless.

Then, it made a terrible, gasping noise, like a drowning person clawing for air. It convulsed, before sagging into a boneless heap like before. The only difference was the haggard up and down movements of its chest and its twitching fingers.

Mabel appeared before him, draping the sweater across its body. “It’s done. It’s done, right?”

Dipper was unable to tear his eyes away from the living, breathing body underneath him. “Yeah. It’s over. Let’s put it – him – in the attic.”

Mabel could only nod.

…

_A small girl plays with her toys in a sandbox, alone. A person, her mother, approaches her, kneels next to her. Their lips move. They both rise and walk away, the girl holding the person’s hand—_

_The image fades away._

_There are stains on the ceiling. Motion. The underside of a man’s stubbled jaw as he yells at someone in front of him. A chinging noise, the rustle of money. Another noise as the cash register is closed. Darkness._

_The image fades away._

_An old, dusty attic with wooden walls and creaking floorboards. Boxes are stacked and pressed against the wall, discarded. A young blonde man sleeps in the bed, motionless. His lips move, whispering—_

_The image fades away._

_There is only one eye left, staring out into an endless void._

_A sudden weight, like nothing he’s ever felt. It drags him down, contorts him. Sensation floods and he screams. Why can’t he see—?_

Bill woke up. He blinked several times, dispelling the fog from his vision. Groaning, he sat up on the bed and held up a slender hand. His fingers twitched. With the strange hand, he gently touched his eyes, his nose, his lips, feeling the shape of his new face.

_Feeling weak, kind of shaky. Arms are a bit scrawny. Midsection feels bad. Is it making noise? But no, everything seems operational. I couldn’t have asked for better. But I have to make sure …_

Kicking off the bedsheets, Bill tried standing up on the bed. A weird force held him down ( _ah, gravity, I haven’t missed you_ ) and his legs buckled.

Taking a deep breath, tasting the stale dust of the attic, he braced against the wall. This time, he could stand. Exhaling, he allowed himself a moment to adjust before pushing away.

He started bouncing. Once he felt sure of his momentum, Bill leaped off the bed, falling face first onto the hard wooden floor with a furious  _chra-ack!_ Pain exploded across his nose and under his eyes.

_Yup. It’s real._

Heaving with laughter, Bill pushed himself back onto his feet. There was a mirror in the corner of the room and he eagerly went to get a good look.

He tugged at his eyelids and yanked his soft, yellow hair so hard strains of it came out in his hands. Fresh blood oozed from his nose.  _That’s_ my  _blood. This is_ my  _hair. Mine mine mine mine._ Giggling at the sight, he smacked his lips when the taste touched his tongue. How would he describe that taste? _Metallic._

Snorting, he wiped his upper lip and stepped back to admire the rest of his body. One of the twins had outfitted him with loose pants and a yellow sweater decorated with a singing banana.  _Definitely Star’s doing._ Pulling up the sweater, he ran his hands along his stomach, his chest, and his sides. Not a single freckle or mole adorned his skin. When he reached a nipple, he pinched it so hard tears pricked his eyes. 

Human bodies are so fragile. It’s one of their more likable qualities.

Satisfied, he covered his stomach and pulled back his sleeves. A circular pattern adorned his inner wrists.  _Ah, good. The binding marks made it through._ With these in place, there was no risk of him being forced out of this body. He only needed one or two to keep his soul bound, but he exaggerated the number required in the ritual notes. If someone wanted to exorcise him, they’d have to go an extra mile. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anyone, after all.

This body was the safest place for him to be right now. Safe from the Mindscape. Safe from  _Her_.

Bill was pulled from his musings when someone knocked and opened the door. He turned around to see Mabel standing there, wearing her Miss Mystery outfit. She looked horrified.

“Bill, what happened to you?” She closed the door and walked up to him, holding her hand out. He stepped back, despite himself. When she got a better look at his face, she froze. “Bill, your … What happened to your eye?”

Bill frowned before turning back to the mirror. His grinning reflection greeted him.  _Ah, right. That._ He hadn’t even noticed, had already been accustomed to monocular vision, but he guessed the universe wasn’t kind enough to give him another deluxe edition body.

In his left eye, there was nothing but white.

“You know that saying ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’, Star? Well, that’s literal. See, my spiritual form only had one eye. True, it was a very versatile – in fact, almost omniscient – eye, but one eye nonetheless. Well, there’s a lot of complicated stuff that goes into that. For the sake of simplicity, let’s just say that a two-eyed body can’t be made from a one-eyed soul.”

“So that’s supposed to happen? We didn’t mess anything up?”

“Nope _._ You screwballs have exceeded all expectations.”

Mabel breathed a sigh of relief. She grabbed the stained sleeve of his left hand. “You got blood everywhere. What happened?”

“Oh, nothing. Just breaking this body in, is all.”

“You did it to yourself?” She relaxed by a fraction but the blatant concern had yet to leave. “I heard a thumping sound a second ago. Was that you?”

“Sure was. These floors are sturdy, let me tell you.”

Sighing, Mabel ordered Bill to sit on the bed before she went to the closet at the other end of the room. Bill did as she requested, kicking out his legs and admiring his toes. She returned with a first aid kit.

“Pinch your nose,” she said. Once he did, she continued, “I’d  _really_ appreciate it if you didn’t try and break the body Dipper and I spent almost a month preparing for you, Bill.”

“Relax, Star, I know the limitations. Drowning, suffocation, decapitation, evisceration, etcetera. All that good stuff.”

“Look, you’ve never had to deal with a broken arm or a broken leg before—”

“Sure, I have. I managed to fracture at least three of Pine Tree’s bones before I got kicked out. The pain was exquisite.”

Mabel’s expression soured. She cleaned the blood off his face with more force than necessary. “Don’t bring that up. And anyway, I mean  _dealing_ with a broken bone. Like, not being able to write or walk and remember to cover your cast before taking a shower. For  _weeks_. I can’t tell you what to do, but I can guarantee that jumping out of a window or taking a sledgehammer to the face wouldn’t be in your best interests. Not if you plan on sticking around.”

Bill didn’t answer that, but Mabel didn’t seem to mind, focused on sorting out his face. He snorted when she stuffed two balls of cotton up his nostrils.

“There, all better. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“So courteous, Star. You fishing for some tips?”

He flinched when she elbowed his side.

“Don’t expect it for too long, Bill. It’s your first day, so I’m going easy on you. You’ll have to pay your dues soon enough.”

Rubbing his side, trying not to linger on her choice of words, he nodded. “I got ya, Star. No, I don’t need anything right now.”

However, his midsection released a horrifying growl. Bill lifted his sweater, inspecting the source of the noise. The bad feeling was back.

Mabel’s lips curled knowingly. “You sound pretty hungry.”

“Hungry? Wait, you mean that thing you fix with food? That’swhat this is?” She nodded. “Humans have to deal with this every time they want to eat?”

The twisted lips bloomed into a smirk. “Pretty much. You’re in luck, though. Dipper’s working on dinner as we speak. I’ll call you down in about a half hour. And, uh,” a note of awkwardness entered her tone. “Are you planning on doing anything about that?” she asked, gesturing to her eye.

Bill’s initial answer was ‘ _no_ ’, but her expression made him think that wasn’t the right answer. “Should I? I could steal someone else’s eye if it’s that important.”

“No. Do not do that.” Without explaining, she removed her Miss Mystery eyepatch and held it out to him. “There. Problem solved.”

He looked at it, and then looked at her. “What do you want me to do with it?”

“Wearit, silly. What else?” She placed the cloth in his lap. “The whole ‘ _not having a pupil_ ’ thing would kinda maybe sorta freak out the common folk. It’s best if you get in the habit of wearing this, at least until we think of something else.”

 _Oh yeah, I forgot that humans freak at the first sign of a deformity._ But Bill nodded enthusiastically. “That’ll work.”

“Don’t mention it.” Patting his shoulder, she rose to her feet. “Oh, and you can find some of our old clothes in those boxes over there. You're only a little bit smaller than Dipper so you can survive off them until we get some new ones. If you ever need anything else, just ask.”

She closed the door. Flopping back onto the bed, Bill smiled until his cheeks grew sore. He didn’t care. The sensations of his body were overwhelming; he’d never get sick of them. Reaching up, he kept grabbing his hair and touching his face.

What an extraordinary success.

…

Mabel kept her promise and called for Bill once dinner was ready. He had been in the middle of poking his arms with a set of needles he found in the desk drawer. Deciding that dealing with the ache in his stomach was a more desirable option than continuing to injure himself, he tossed the needles aside, plucked the cotton balls out of his nose, and left the room.

A permeable scent assaulted him in the hallway and his mouth got wet. He took a moment to slurp up the spit. Humans were more like dogs than he thought.

When he reached the stairs, he bit his lip, struggling to force down a smirk.

Down in the kitchen, Dipper stood in front of the stove, adding the finishing touches to the spaghetti sauce. Mabel sat at the table, drumming her silverware as she wondered if Bill heard her hollering when they heard a horribly loud thumping sound. Mabel gasped and jumped to her feet while Dipper ran to the doorway. His expression snapped from panicked to irate.

“ _Bill._ ”

A laugh. “You called?”

Bill smiled from his contorted position on the floor. If he hadn’t have broken any bones in that fall, it would be a miracle (and a huge disappointment, no matter what Shooting Star said). _Humans are more durable than I give them credit for, though._  Ignoring the glares, Bill stood up, patting himself down for injuries.  _Nahh, nothing. Not even a fracture. Oh well. I’m sure a bruise or two will pop up later._

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break our stairs,” Dipper grumbled, returning to his sauce.

“I’m fine, by the way, Pine Tree.”

“You’re probably super disappointed.”

The kid knew him too well.

Jogging into the kitchen, Bill took a seat on the opposite side of the sister twin. Mabel was frowning, trying to check him for injuries without being too obvious. He placed his elbows on the table. “Something you need, Star?”

“We talkedabout the self-maiming, Bill.”

“No, you gave me advice, which I chose to disregard.  _Huge_ difference. Astronomical, even.”

Mabel sighed but didn’t say anything. Tension permeated the room, which Bill chose to delightfully ignore. He enjoyed the sight of her picking her nails and avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t see Dipper’s expression, but his stiff shoulders and the way he angrily stirred the brew was enough to make him happy. These meatsacks are too cute.

“Done,” Dipper announced, readying three nonmatching plates. Mabel inhaled deeply at the momentary break in silence, accepting her plate as Dipper passed them around. When Dipper reached Bill, he paused. His brow furrowed, but he didn’t offer an explanation. Bill stared up at him.

“Do you need something?”

A  _psst!_ across the table drew his attention. Mabel was gesturing to her left eye. “Oh!” He reached into his pocket for the eyepatch. “Wait. There.” He snapped the patch into place. “All better.”

“Why—?” Dipper began but Bill waved him away.

“Ask your sister. I’d rather not think about my ailments at the dinner table, thank you. You should be a little more sensitive, Pine Tree.”

Curious, but also clearly unwilling to indulge him, Dipper shrugged and handed Bill his dish before sitting down in the middle seat. The clinking of the twins’ silverware filled the room. Bill stared at the lump of noodles in front of him.

He planted his face into the noodles and took a huge bite. Flavor burst on his taste buds and he had to swallow a grunt of appreciation. If there’s one thing these bonebags got right, it’s the food.Bringing the plate closer to his body, he proceeded to shovel the spaghetti into his mouth with his hands. The twins watched with a mix horror and disgust.

Dipper recovered faster and cleared his throat. “You know the phrase ‘dig in’ is just a suggestion, right?”

Mabel laughed nervously, tapping her knife on the table. “Uh, Bill, why don’t you use the utensils we set out for you? I can say from experience that cleanup is a lot easier in the long run.”

“Why use those when I have these?” Bill chortled, flexing his hands. “Besides, it’s fun.”

“Your definition of fun must be a bit different from ours,” said Dipper, twirling spaghetti around his fork.

A slow, deliberate smile crept onto Bill’s face. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Pine Tree? I’m sure there’s a lot of things you’d like to know.”

“ _So_ ,” Mabel said before Dipper could retort. “Bill. How are you doing? You look good. How’s the new body treating you? Good? Well? Hunky-dory?”

“Oh, it’s been great, Star,” Bill spoke through a mouthful of pasta. “I’d forgotten just how easily bleedable you humans are. It’s actually kind of amazing your species didn’t die a million years ago.”

“You know, Bill,” Dipper had escalated to stabbing his food, “you still haven't really told us much about your situation. We got you your human body. What do you plan to do now that you have it?”

“Did the noodles do something to offend you, Pine Tree? You seem to be experiencing some violent urges that you’re taking out on your food. Kind of psychotic, if you ask me.”

Dipper breathed deeply through his nose, taking a large bite to avoid making a comment. Too easy. Bill smirked. Mabel watched the two of them. Silence fell and lasted for a solid ten minutes, everyone eating their food with varying degrees of intensity.

“I can’t help but notice,” Dipper spoke without warning, swallowing the last of his spaghetti, “you didn’t answer my question, Bill.”

Couldn’t the kid take a hint? “And Icouldn’t help but notice you still don’t know how to mind your own business, kid.” Dipper bristled. “Ah, Pine Tree, you really haven’t changed. Still sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

They glared at each other, hard and unblinking. Dipper gripped his fork so tightly his knuckles turned white. Bill continued shoveling food into his mouth. Suddenly, Mabel shrilled with laughter and slapped the table.

“It’s reallyfunny you bring up secrets, Bill, the funniest thing happened to me at the mini golf course last week. See, there was this purple golf ball, a bonnet, and an old man’s mollusk—”

“‘Sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong’?” Dipper interrupted, flushed with anger. Mabel swallowed. “My nose has been right where it needs to be, considering all the horrible things I’ve stopped you from doing.”

“Right, ‘stopped’ me. If you ever think you ‘stopped’ me, you’re delusional. You were barely an obstacle, kid. A bump in the road. That is when you weren’t he—”

Mabel slammed her hands on the table and stood, making the two boys jolt in their seats. “You look finished, Bill, are you finished? You look finished. Why don’t I show you around the Mystery Shack considering the whole permanent resident setup, I mean, it would be pretty inconvenient to not know where the bathroom is in the middle of the night, right? Right.”

Dipper recovered faster than Bill, who was still staring with a slightly slacked jaw. “Mabel, he doesn’t need a tour, he already knows where everything is. ‘I’ll be watching you’, remember?”

Smug little bastard. Bill smirked at Mabel. “Sure Star, I’d lovea tour.” Dipper looked at him then, buzzing with anger, and Bill’s smile grew.

Mabel led them both out of the kitchen. Bill regretted he couldn’t lick the plate clean, but he enjoyed spiting Dipper more than tomato sauce. He followed her, patting himself on the back for a job well done.

“I love what you two have done with the place,” he said as they crossed the living room. “Really, the new couch is nice.” He had hoped her body would go all rigid like Dipper’s did, but was disappointed when she seemed to ignore him. He would just have to try harder. “So how havethose online classes been? I know college was too ambitious for you, couldn’t bear to leave your brother behind and everything, so hopefully—”

Mabel stopped in the middle of the hallway. Bill almost ran into her back, but caught himself. “Whoa, what’s with the traffic jam, Star? Star? Hey, whoa,  _ow_ —”

Mabel had turned around and trapped Bill in a headlock.

“What the hell are you—?”

“Say ‘uncle’.”

She started grinding her knuckle into his head.

“Owowow, stop that—!”

“Say ‘Uncle’, Bill!”

“Uncle, _uncle_.”

Just as it became difficult to breathe, she let him go. Bill tried backing away, but she had trapped him against the wall. Even though she was only half a head taller, she towered over him.

“You know, for a guy who said he was going to  _die_ if he didn’t get our help, you’re acting like a class-A jerk,” she said, digging her finger into his shoulder.

Bill could have made several witty comments or have gone for some good old fashion coercion, but the sensation of her arm around his neck and his complete inability to fend her off glued his tongue to his throat.She could do that again and he would have no idea how to stop her.“I-I—”

“No excuses, Bill. You were trying to pick a fight with my brother and I can tell you right now that that attitude is going to get you kicked out faster than you can say ‘blueberry marshmallows’. You know I really stuck my neck out for you to get you that body in the first place? The least you can do is be good to my brother. You wouldn’t even  _be_ here if it wasn’t for him.”

She took a step back and jabbed his shoulder again. “Now what I want you to do is go in there and apologize _._ I get it, you’re a billion-year-old dream demon and you’ve never had to say ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ or whatever. But if this keeps up, if this is going to be an issue, you should just get out now. Because I can promise you, we will notput up with it. Do I make myself clear?”

Bill didn’t respond for a moment, reeling When Mabel tightened her jaw and moved towards him, however, he nodded. “I get it, Star. Sheesh, point made. Don’t go all Amazon on me.”

Snorting, Mabel finally backed off for good. Bill moved away from the wall.

Taking several deep breaths, Mabel said, “Okay.” She looked up. “You know I wouldn’t have agreed to let you stay here if I didn’t think we could all get along. You know that, right?”

Bill didn’t answer but she didn’t seem to expect otherwise. Then, she turned towards the living room. “Now, if you’ll please follow me.”

“Why?”

“I said I’d give you the tour of the house and I mean to give you a tour of the house.”

“You only said that to get me away from your brother.”

“I told my brotherthat I was going to give you a tour, Bill, so I am going to give you one.”

“This really isn’t necessary—”

“ _TOOUR!_ ”

Bill couldn’t bring himself to argue after that, trailing several steps behind her as she led him further down the hall.

…

The ‘tour’ didn’t last long, starting with Dipper’s room and ending with the bathroom next to the attic staircase (“You do know how to use the bathroom, right?” she had asked, to which Bill responded, “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”).

At the end of it all, she dumped him near the doorway to the kitchen with naught but a hard glare. Bill watched her go, mind ablaze.

Never once, during all his planning and scheming in the Mindscape, did he ever consider the twins being able to cow him. He was Bill Cipher, dream demon extraordinaire. He could break a person’s mind at will.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, he’s a fleshy, vulnerable being limited by the laws of the physical world. He could be  _incapacitated_. He had known that conceptually but it was something different to be faced with the reality.

When he had told Dipper he could be taken care of if he caused trouble, he hadn’t actually  _believed_ it.

As Bill stood in the hallway, staring into the kitchen where the kid was cleaning dishes, he weighed his options. He could accept Mabel’s offer and leave now without another word. He had his body, after all. He had no further use of the siblings.

But he hadn’t been kidding when he had told Dipper that humans could be dangerous. He understood human behavior better than any other demon, but that didn’t account for much. Humans were violent and afraid of the unknown, murdering their own species at the first sign of an abnormality (the definition of which was always changing). He could be lynched by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time before even realizing he made a mistake. Even  _he_ wasn’t entirely sure what would happen to him if this body perished.

Bill ground his teeth, horribly frustrated by his own inadequacy.  _I’m resourceful. I’ve been playing humans for fools since before they could write. I could make it. I could leave now and never have to deal with these brats again._

He could do that.

Or.

He could suck it up and stick to the plan. He knew he’d be dead out there by himself.

Dipper turned around, a soapy mug in hand, and spotted Bill in the doorway. Bill stiffened.

Playing nice with the kid is a small price to pay. Human instinct demanded he take a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable humiliation, before stepping into the kitchen. Dipper didn’t move.

“Do you need something?” Dipper asked after a long moment.

 _Yeah, your sister’s head on a spike_. Bill’s eye twitched, but he grinned. “No. Nothing at all.”

Dipper eyed him, plucking up a rag to wipe down the mug. “Are you just going to stand there, or …?”

 _What else am I supposed to do? Float? Because I can’t exactly do that anymore._ Bill swallowed the comment, readying a far more serviceable reply when Dipper cut him off. “Because if you are, you can help me put away the dishes. Come here.”

He returned to the sink, turning his back to Bill, expecting him to listen. The action made Bill bristle. They really weren’t afraid of him, were they?

When Bill approached the counter, Dipper handed him a wet rag. “For the sauce,” he explained, pointing to his face. With a huff, Bill scrubbed the pasta sauce off his face and hands, tossing the rag aside as Dipper handed him a wet plate. “It goes in the cupboard above you.”

The two fell into a pattern, wrapped up in their own angry thought bubbles. Bill’s hands shook so hard he almost dropped the plates twice.

When Dipper handed him a cup, Bill wiped it down and reached up towards the cupboard. Dipper stopped him. “The cups go on the shelves next to the stove.”

Bill turned around. Sure enough, there were the cups, prim and pretty. “Well, would you look at that?” he declared, sauntering to the stove. “Looks like I don’t know where everything is after all.”

Dipper thinned his lips, not answering until Bill returned to his side. “No, I suppose you don’t.” He breathed, looking down at the sink. “We’ll have to work on that, I guess. Considering you live here now.”

“Yeah. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

The two didn’t move, staring at each other, waiting for someone to make the next move. The sensation of Mabel’s arm crept around Bill’s neck. 

_Fine. You win, Star. Let’s get this over with._

“Look, Dipper,” he started. Dipper narrowed his eyes. “There are some things I have to keep to myself, for both our sakes. You’re not going to see me asking you to dig up every skeleton you’ve ever had in your closet. But that doesn’t mean I … that doesn’t mean I should have …” Bill bit his cheek, savoring the pain. “I shouldn’t have acted like a class-A jerk.”

_There. That’s all you get, Star._

Dipper stared at him. He stared and stared and stared until even Bill became uncomfortable.

Then, Dipper took the plate Bill had been drying. “You can head upstairs if you want. I can handle the rest of this.”

Bill was left standing there empty-handed, dismissed like a child. 

_You did it. You humiliated yourself and now you won’t have to sleep outside tonight. Don’t be an idiot. Don’t make it worse for yourself._

Releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding (oh God, do humans sometimes forget to breathe?), Bill stepped out, heading for the attic.

“Wait.”

Bill stopped halfway up the stairs. Dipper was standing in the doorway. His lips were twitching. “Tell me what Mabel did to you.”

 _Oh, you play a dangerous game, Pine Tree._ Figuring he couldn’t possibly sink any lower, Bill said, “She, uh, got me in a headlock and knuckled my head until I said ‘uncle’.”

“She gave you a noogie?”

“Is that even a real word? Sure. Whatever. Your language is terrible. I hope you know that.”

Dipper chuckled as he returned to the kitchen.

Bill was wrong. He  _could_ sink lower. Ego in tatters, he continued up the stairs, digging his nails into the flesh of his hand.

_Maybe being lynched isn’t such a bad idea after all._

…

Bill had been in the middle of changing into the sleep clothes (because humans have a specific wardrobe for sweating in a bed for eight hours, like that made sense) when someone knocked on the door.

“No solicitors,” Bill said, pulling the faded red shirt over his head.

“What? No, it’s me, Dipper. This isn’t even the front door.” Dipper entered the room and, after taking in his getup, frowned. “Where did you get those clothes?”

“The boxes over there. Star said I could help myself.”

“Right, we’re going to have to buy you some new clothes.” Rubbing his neck, he stepped further into the room. “Look, Bill, I wanted … I wanted to talk about …” He licked his lips, staring at the floor. “I just wanted to clear the air, you know?”

Taking a step back, Bill crossed his arms. “Sure, I know. Why not? Come on, then, out with it.”

“Okay.” Dipper cleared his throat, taking his hands out of his pockets. “You can keep your secrets, alright? I’m not going to waste my energy trying to ferret them out. You already know what happens if you put my sister or me in danger.”

For once, Dipper’s dark tone sent a trill of caution rolling through him. “Yes, that point was made crystal clear. One-hundred percent understood. Mmhmm.”

“Yeah. So, I’m not going to worry about it. And if you and I are going to coexist, well,” and then he took a step forward and extended his left hand, “I’m calling a truce. No fighting, no trying to make each other miserable. Let’s try and get along so we don’t both go crazy. Deal?”

Bill stared at the hand and found himself in the odd position of reversed roles, unable to recall a time when someone had extended a hand to  _him_. He accepted and they shook once. Dipper immediately backed off and Bill grinned without feeling. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dipper nodded, looking him dead in the eye. “Get some rest, because tomorrow’s your first day on the job.” He left, leaving Bill alone with his faded old clothes and his thoughts.

That kid’s really too cute. It’s almost kind of sad.

He flipped off the lights. Bill laid on ‘his’ bed and stared up at ‘his’ ceiling. This whole sleeping thing would be an adventure and a half. He’s never experienced actual dreaming of his own before. It’s like switching from the vision of a lion to zebra. Only the lion can see ultraviolet and possess people.

But it still should prove interesting.

Plucking off Mabel’s eyepatch and tossing it onto the nightstand, he curled up underneath the bedsheets, shifting around until he found a comfortable position. Closing his eyes, trying to relax and fall asleep for the first time.

…

The electronic clock stared into the darkness. 1:38 AM. Bill glared, willing it to explode. For the better part of two hours, he had been flipping around on the mattress because this damned bodyrefused to get comfortable. If he had the sheets on, his body was too hot. If he flung them off, the body was too cold.

Frustrated, he sat up in bed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. What was he doing wrong? Put on the sleep clothes, climb into bed, dream. That’s it. That is how you do sleep.So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he falling asleep? Is something wrong with this body? Was it just another stupid human thing?

Chalking it up to a lost cause, he kicked off the sheets and stood up, flipping on the lights. He blinked and hissed in pain as his eye adjusted. Human bodies are too fragile for their own good. Even light hurts them. This is ridiculous _._ Rubbing his neck, he paced around the length of the attic, gnawing his lip.

He could remember times when humans seemed unable to sleep as well. They would toss and turn in their beds. Sometimes they would drink water or milk, or read or watch television. Bill had never really questioned it, only ever noticing when a person he felt like torturing that night was unable to fall into his realm of nightmares. But even then, he would just force them to fall asleep anyway.

_So how do I fix this?_

Bill eyed the old bookshelf hidden in the back corner. It contained mostly assorted junk, like old toys or blankets, but near the top rested a line of dusty old books. Stepping over the row of boxes, Bill tilted his head to get a good look at the spines.

_The Sibling Brothers in The Case of the Caper-Cape Capers._

Oh god, it was one of Pine Tree’s dumb mystery novels.He remembered when the kid had read that garbage, mumbling to himself until sunrise. It drove his sister crazy. It was a book with a mystery so bland and predictable that the twist could be seen from ten miles away. No wonder Pine Tree liked them so much. It’s not like he’ll be solving any other mysteries anytime soon.

Bill plucked up a random book in the series and strolled back to bed. Sitting up against the headboard as Dipper had done so many times in the past, he opened to the first page. _I’m sure this travesty of literature will force me into unconsciousness anyway._

By the time he finished it, tossing the horrid book aside, the sun had already started to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).)


	3. Bill Cipher, the Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill's insomnia gets in the way of his new life at the Mystery Shack.

“ _Bill, breakfast._ ”

At the sound of Mabel’s voice, Bill sat up, having been staring listlessly at the ceiling for the better part of two hours. He had long given up trying to sleep after Dipper’s ( _horrible, predictable, blight on the universe_ )book failed him. 

_Okay, so whatever, this is just a little bump in the road. It’s no big deal, I’m sure things will sort themselves out. No point worrying about it now._

When he got out of bed, an intense, dizzying sensation swept over him. His vision swirled and blotted and he wobbled, almost falling to the floor. Barely catching himself, he stumbled his way to the door.  _Just a fluke, just a fluke._

Once he reached the stairs, the dizzy feeling having simmered to a dull buzzing, he smartly decided that throwing himself down the steps again probably wasn’t the best idea.  _In this state, I might just break my neck, and I’ve slaughtered my pride too thoroughly to let that happen now._ So, he walked downstairs like a normal human being. The thought made him sick.

This time, it was Mabel in front of the stove with Dipper at the table. Unlike last night, the smell of delicious food being cooked made him queasy, even though he was certain his stomach was empty.  _Oh great, not only do I have to deal with sleep deprivation, this body won’t even let me enjoy the food. Are human bodies always so counterproductive?_

“Good morning, Bill,” Mabel said, flipping another pancake. Bill grunted, flopping down in the seat opposite of Dipper and holding his head in his hands. Dipper looked up from his book and frowned.

“What happened to you?”

Kneading his forehead, Bill fished for an excuse that didn’t make him sound pathetic and incompetent ( _you know that thing you humans could do around the same time you were being born? Yeah, I can’t figure out how to do that.)_ when Mabel said, “Yeah, you look bushed. Did you get any sleep last night?”

“A minor setback. Nothing to worry about.”  _Yeah, that works._ “This is just a side effect of the ritual, I’m sure. Little hiccups are going to crop up from time to time. This is completely expected.”  _That’s enough, you got the point across._ “I have everything under control.”  _Shut up._

“So, what you’re saying is that you have no idea what’s going on?” Dipper said, sipping his tea.

 _I hate you, Pine Tree._ “I never said that.”

Dipper bit down a smirk while Mabel ' _aww'_ -ed. “That really sucks, Bill,” she said. “Hopefully we can figure out what’s wrong. But _,_ ” she broke out a smile, “I have the perfectthing to perk you up.” Reaching down, she rifled through a cabinet. After finding what she was looking for, she spun around and held out an unmarked jar of something murky. “Ta-dah.”

Bill squinted in confusion. “Is that animal blood?”

Dipper groaned. “Mabel, pleasedon’t tell me you actually made that stuff again.”

“You bet I did. Come on. What’s a better way to welcome the latest employee of the Mystery Shack than whipping up a fresh jar of my  _Mabel_ syrup? Eh? Eh?” She laughed, staring at Bill pointedly.  _She’s looking at me. What? What does she want?_ Bill looked at Dipper, who then rolled his eyes.

“She’s been trying to get people to laugh at that pun for years,” he mumbled, returning to his book.

Mabel continued staring at Bill, nodding. “Yup. See, what I do is I go around to all the nearby Oregon maple trees. I use a homemade tap and wait for the sap to slowly fill a bucket, and I do that for several days. It’s exhausting.” She smiled, shaking the jar. "All for this little jar of  _Mabel Syrup._ Ha!"

Bill flipped his gaze from her to Dipper to the jar and back to Mabel.

“ _HAA!_ ” he belted out, making Dipper jolt in his seat.

Mabel pumped her fist. “See, bro-bro? He gets it.” Dipper snorted, but he didn’t make another comment. Mabel switched her gaze between the two of them, gripping the jar. “So, you two are good now, right? Everyone’s good? No more being jerks to each other?”

Bill glanced out of the corner of his eye. Dipper hadn’t looked up from his book, but it was obvious he wasn’t reading.

“Yeah,” Dipper said after a moment. “We’re cool. Right, Bill?”

“…sure.”  _Whatever you say, kid._

Mabel clapped her hands. “That’s great. I’m glad to hear it. Here you are,” and she held out the jar to him, “your very own jar of  _Mabel syrup_ , trademark, for your eating pleasure.”

“Mabel, you’re not supposed to say  _trademark_. You don’t even have a trademark.”

“And what are you, the trademark police?”

"Those are called lawyers."

As the two bantered, Bill unscrewed the jar. The consistency was darker than he expected, and one jab of his finger revealed it to be incredibly sticky.  _She’s giving it to me freely, so it_ _probably isn’t poisonous._   _Poison sounds like it would be fun, though_. _I’ve never tried it._  He lapped the stuff off his finger and smacked his lips. The initial taste was intriguing. Mildly tangy, sharper than the pasta sauce from last night.

Then it settled on his tongue and Bill’s taste buds exploded. The fire spread from his gums to the roof of his mouth, making his eye water and his face heat up.  _Poison. This is definitely poison. Boy, I hope this doesn’t kill me. I’m going to be so angry if this kills me!_ He gasped for breath, beating the table in a desperate plea for help.

Mabel and Dipper whirled around. Dipper was the first to act, standing up. “Jesus, Mabel, what did you put in that stuff?” he said, darting to the refrigerator.

“Just the usual ingredients. Water, sugar, liquefied gummy bears, some maple extract, hot sauce…” Mabel swiped the jar from Bill’s hand and tasted the concoction for herself. She hummed in thought, smacking her lips before shrugging. “It’s fine.”

Dipper set down a large glass of milk on the table, which Bill grabbed and gulped, before taking the jar and sampling the syrup as well. “It’s not that bad. No worse than your spicy omelets, anyway.” Dipper looked at Bill and then back to his sister, brow furrowed. “He was basically born yesterday. His taste buds must be underdeveloped.”

Bill slapped the half empty glass on the table, sighing haggardly. “That is …  _ack!_ ” He started coughing again, and he pounded his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Bill. I forgot that you're practically a baby. I would neverhave—”

Reaching up, Bill took the jar out of Dipper’s hand and ate syrup by the handful. “This …  _aargh_ … this is amazing.  I think my stomach is on fire." He gasped, wiping his mouth with his shirt. "And you’re telling me it gets even hotter? You humans are so weird. I love it.”

The twins didn’t respond, watching as he slurped up the spicy syrup as if it were water.

“Uuh, Bill?” Mabel stepped forward, forcing down laughter. “You’re supposed to eat that with p—”

Dipper held up a hand and shook his head. Mabel quirked a brow. Dipper nodded, and without another word, went to pour another glass of milk. Mabel shrugged and returned to her pancakes, leaving Bill to his syrup.

The syrup did the trick. As Bill ripped up and wolfed down his pancakes, he felt awake and alert. Who needs sleep when you have hot sauce and sugar? Humans thought of everything. How are they still so helpless in the grand scheme of things?

Once breakfast concluded, Dipper told Bill to go change into light clothes. “We’re going to be working outside today,” he said, putting his plate in the sink. He handed Bill another wet rag, which Bill used to clean his sticky face.

“Outside? You mean like manual labor?”

“Yes,” Dipper answered without turning around, leaving the room.

Bill frowned, tossing the rag on the counter. “What is this? I don’t remember signing up for a labor force.”

“Helping out with chores was a part of the deal,” said Mabel, stationed in front of the sink. “I know the concept of honoring deals is foreign to you, but bro-bro and I are here to help keep you in line.”

“Hey, whoa, Star. Getting a little bit snarky over there. I’m just saying if the guy puts me on an assembly line, there will be words.”

“Oh, relax. You’re like a baby with that lanky body of yours. He won’t make you do anything too difficult.”

“You seem way too happy with the idea of me working in this tourist trap, Star.”

She paused, holding a plate underneath the faucet, humming under her breath. “It’s just nice, that someone else is helping out Dipper. I can’t work as much as I should because of my online classes and art projects and, well, I worried he was about to work himself to death.” Turning around, she smiled at him. “But now you’re here.”

 _Yes. Now I’m here._ Bill sighed.  _Well, better get this over with._ He began pulling his pajama shirt over his head. By the time Mabel turned around, he was already halfway through removing his pants.

“Bill, what are you doing?”

“What? The kid said to dress light—”

“He meant to change into light clothes, not strip down in the kitchen _._ ” She threw her hands over her eyes, laughing. “Get your weedy body upstairs and change.”

Bill scampered out of the kitchen, nearly tripping over his pants. Fifteen minutes later, he joined Dipper outside, wearing what he assumed were acceptable work clothes.  _These meatsacks are far too sensitive. Don’t they realize that they all have skin under their clothes?_

Dipper had removed his flannel shirt, revealing the faded white shirt he wore underneath. Bill eyed the kid’s toned physique, suddenly aware of the scrawniness of his own body.  _Not to say the kid is particularly blessed or anything. What did Star mean by ‘weedy’?_

“Was someone yelling a minute ago?” Dipper said as Bill drew closer.

“Don’t ask.”

Dipper quirked a brow, but took his advice and didn’t question further. Instead, he held out an ax. Bill froze. “You’re going to be chopping logs for today.”

 _Oh, okay. I thought the kid had harnessed his inner psychopath for a second there. It’s bound to happen eventually._  Bill gingerly took the tool, almost dropping it because  _that is much heavier than it looks_ , as Dipper placed a log on the chopping block and stepped back.

“Give it a go.”

Bill looked at the ax and then back to the chopping block. “Right. I’ve seen meatsacks do this hundreds of times before.” Throwing the ax over his shoulder, he brought the tool down on the log with a mighty grunt. It made a quiet  _thwack_  sound and lodged halfway through.

“Wow, that’s pretty embarrassing,” Dipper mumbled, muffling a snort in his hand.

Bill’s faced warmed up and he wondered if that had anything to do with his sudden urge to hit Dipper with the base of the ax. He tried shaking off the log, to no avail. He had just started to kick at it when Dipper grabbed it from him.

“Here,” he effortlessly yanked the log off the blade, “let me show you before you hurt yourself by mistake.” He set it up again. “You’re going to want to aim for the center of the log. Keep your arms straight. Widen your stance, and …” He swung down the ax in an arc, using the momentum to split the log cleanly in half.

Straightening up, he gave the ax to Bill. Bill twisted his lips.

“Are you trying to impress somebody, Pine Tree?”

Dipper chuckled, picking up the logs and throwing them aside. “It’s easy, Bill. It just takes some practice. Try again.”

As Dipper set up the chopping block again, Bill shook out his shoulders.  _Arrogant brat. Thinking he can outdo me with his … upper body strength._ Dipper stepped back. Widening his stance, Bill copied Dipper’s arc and swung. This time, the ax produced a much more satisfying  _crack_.

“Better.” Dipper clapped Bill on the shoulder. “Keep it up. Once you’re done, move it all next to the furnace in the kitchen. I’m going to be weeding if you need me. You can take a break whenever you like so long as the work is done by the end of the day.”

Bill swallowed a surly comment, occupying himself with prying the wood from the ax. He glared at the pile of logs that still needed to be split. “It’s summer. It’s supposed to be hot. Why do you need so much fuel for a furnace?”

“A little stockpiling never hurt anybody. And Oregon is chillier than California at night. Mabel and I can’t handle it.” Even though it was a perfectly logical response, Bill didn’t trust Dipper’s broadening smirk. Seeming to sense his suspicions, Dipper continued, “Besides, a little fresh air and manual labor are good for you. Good for the soul. It’s not like I want you to suffer or anything, Bill.”

He left Bill standing there in the hot summer sun with an ax and boiling frustration. Sadistic little bastard. Returning to the woodpile, he picked up a stout log and placed it on the block. _I’ve already gotten the hang of it. I’ll be finished in no time. You’ll see, brat._

…

When Dipper returned, carrying two chilled water bottles, he found Bill sitting curled up against the chopping block, the ax thrown off to the side. His shirt was soaked with sweat and he panted harshly. Dipper crouched down next to him, utterly deadpan. “Bill?”

“Mnngh.”

“It hasn’t even been an hour, Bill.”

“I’m aware, Pine Tree.”

Rolling his eyes, Dipper pressed the water bottle to the back of Bill’s neck. Bill yelped and scrambled away. He shot a lethal glare at Dipper, who held out the water bottle.

“You’re walking on thin ice, Pine Tree,” Bill grumbled, resituating himself and hanging his head between his knees. The kick of the Mabel Syrup had worn off fast, leaving him shaky and woozy. The hot summer sun only made it worse. He reached up to rub his face, only to find his skin sticky and wet. “Ugh, what is this? Pine Tree, my body is dripping.”

“Bill, that’s sweat. All humans do that.” Dipper wiped his forehead and held out his hand. Bill backed away.

“Disgusting. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do humans do that?”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“You think I would’ve ever taken the time to learn how your filthy bodies work, Pine Tree? I’m an all-powerful secret keeper, not a biology professor.”

Dipper had to fight down a smirk. “I see. Okay, well, when our bodies get too hot, like on days like this, it excretes water to cool off. It’s why drinking water and staying hydrated is so important.” He shook the water bottle to make his point. “You could die if you go a few days without drinking anything.”

“Wait a second. You’re telling me that if a human were to get trapped in the desert with no water, your body would dehydrate itself rather than bottle it up?” Dipper didn’t answer, and Bill shook his head. “Unbelievable. Who  _designed_ these things?”

“There are people who live in the desert, you know, and they’re doing all right. It’s called ‘ingenuity’.” Dipper placed Bill’s water bottle on the ground and stood up, stretching. “Say what you like, Bill. Humans are better than you give them credit for.”

He left before Bill could summon a retort.  _The kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about._ Sniffing, he cracked off the bottle’s lid and gulped down the water so fast he almost choked. He cocked his head, glaring at the work that still had to be done.  _I’m going to be out here for hours._

As a denizen of the Mindscape, Bill had a shaky grasp on the concept of time. Words like ‘tedious’ had no real meaning when you can alter the flow of your reality with the flick of a wrist. Humans had no such control. Time could slow to a crawl and they would still toil in the sun, building their monuments or their railroads. He didn’t know if that made their accomplishments more impressive or if it confirmed what he already knew about their stupidity.

_‘Humans are better than blah blah blah’. Don’t be ridiculous, Pine Tree._

Tossing the ax aside, Bill polished off the last of the water bottle and stood up, heading for the Shack. Dipper said he could take a break if he wanted to, and there wasn't a chance in hell he’d work harder than necessary.  _Now might be a good time to try that whole ‘bathroom’ mechanism_ , he figured, opening the door and welcoming the cool blast of air conditioning.

…

The day passed without incident and time only got slower. The only fun part was how sore his arms and abdomen grew. He giggled every time his muscles started twinging. Other than that, it was a train wreck of mumbled curses and continued sweating.

Mabel approached him once with a glass of juice and a jelly sandwich, and Dipper occasionally checked up on him, but other than that he was left alone, which he preferred. He would break if he saw one more smirk from Dipper or sympathetic smile from Mabel. It was already a struggle not to go after the occasional woodland creature with the ax. He didn’t need the extra motivation.

There was a benefit from this madness, however. By the time he managed to devour dinner later that evening (doing well to remind him why having a body was awesome) and return to his room, he was sure he would have no trouble passing out the second he fell onto his bed. It took serious concentration to keep his eye open as it was.  _Always look on the bright side. I am an infallible optimist._

Kicking off his shoes and snapping off the lights, he collapsed onto the mattress, not even caring that he was still wearing his sweat-drenched clothes.

He sank into the mattress, waiting for the tendrils of sleep to pull him under, when—

“ _Bill!_ ”

His eyes opened at the sound of Dipper’s voice.  _What does the kid want now?_

“ _BILL!_ ”

He shot up in his bed.

“ _IF YOU DID IN THE BATHROOM WHAT I THINK YOU DID, BILL, I SWEAR TO GOD—!_ ”

Groaning, Bill flung back onto his side and pulled the pillow over his head.

…

Even though he felt like his arms were going to fall off, Bill still couldn’t find sleep that night. He tossed and turned for hours, at one point switching beds to see if it had any effect. It didn’t.

The fact that he couldn’t fall asleep  _again_  wasn’t even the best part. Dipper’s chastising lecture left a raw imprint on his mind.  _I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Meatsacks are too sensitive for their own good. You think your weird bathroom habits are commonplace, Pine Tree? Have you ever even been to a zoo? You are the minority!_

But the fact that he still couldn’t sleep was making him anxious. A onetime occurrence could always be written off as a freak accident, a fluke.  _After all, I had only just woken up that afternoon. It would be reasonable to not have fallen asleep._ But as he sat there, slamming his arm in the doorway, he began to realize that maybe, just maybe, this might be a big problem.

_Humans have gone insane by not getting enough sleep. They could even die. I’ve made them do it before._

He made to stand, grimacing as his muscles shrieked in agony. It wasn’t even the fun kind of agony anymore, just the kind that made him want to curl up and never move again. Shutting the door, he stumbled to the center of the room, trying to clear his head enough to think.

He wouldn’t resort to Dipper’s books again to pass the time and he was so sore and tired that even the thought of injuring himself didn’t have that much appeal.  _What else do humans do for insomnia? Television? Gross. Warm milk?_ He became nauseous at the thought.  _A glass of water? Well, Pine Tree said human bodies can’t function without water._

He headed for the kitchen, leaning heavily against the guardrail as he staggered down the stairs. The fact that he made it to the refrigerator without falling once was kind of a miracle, as the sensation of gravity was still off-putting. He gulped down a glass of iced water, smacking his lips.

_I’m still a tired idiot. But at least I’m a hydrated tired idiot now. Bright side. Bright side._

He left the glass on the counter and began pacing through the front hall, running his hands through his hair. He eyed the front door, and an idea struck him.

_A pleasant walk through the forest, maybe? It would pass the time, at least._

Figuring he had nothing to lose, he sauntered out the door, barefooted and wearing nothing but thin, old pajamas. A blast of crisp, cool air rushed up his face and through his nose, and he felt invigorated as he stepped out onto the grass. He can already tell this was a good idea.

…

Hours passed and morning arrived. The sun was high in the sky by the time Bill limped back to the Mystery Shack.  _The brats should be awake by now_ , he figured. The walk helped to alleviate his boredom, but exhaustion still sunk through to his core. His very bones felt shaky and weak, and he had to keep blinking fog away from his vision. He’d never felt so heavy before, even when he had possessed Dipper’s sleep deprived body all these years ago.

He tripped on the steps leading to the Shack, almost busting his lip on the floorboards. Just as he considered lying there forever, the front door was thrown open.

“ _Bill._ ”

Bill craned his neck, glaring at the shoes connected to Dipper’s body. “Ayy.”

A hand touched his arm, and he found himself being gingerly helped to his feet and pulled inside. Dipper covered his nose, eyes watering. “Jesus, Bill, you smell terrible. Where did you go?”

“I was out enjoying nature. Not like I had anything better to do. Do you even realize how majestic your Oregon forests are? They’re splendid. I’d be a fool not to frolic through them underneath the moonlight.”

“I’m aware of the majestic forests.” And then, understanding flashed in his eyes. “You weren’t able to get any sleep last night? Again?”

“Yes. No. There isn’t a—” He sucked his teeth, unable to form a comprehensible thought. Dipper saved him the inconvenience of trying to talk by taking a step back, staring at Bill’s tattered pajamas.

“Why do you have blood all over your shirt? Is that a  _rabbit_?”

“What? Oh.” He held up the battered corpse, having a vague memory of bludgeoning the thing some odd hours ago. He tossed it to Dipper. “For you, kid.”

Dipper made a strangled noise and squirmed away. The rabbit plunkedonto the floor. Bill busted out laughing.  _The kid gets grossed out so easily. I love it._

Mabel approached the living room doorway. She clapped her hand over her nose when she got a whiff of Bill's odor. “Bill, where did you go? You didn’t come down to breakfast and when I went upstairs you weren’t in bed. Why is there a dead rabbit on the floor?”

“Bill’s idea of a joke,” Dipper said.

“Hurtful, Pine Tree. That was a gift.”

Mabel knelt, gently scooping up the bedraggled corpse. Dipper fidgeted when she stood back up, holding it in her hands. “I will go bury it,” she said somberly, leaving through the front door.

Dipper wiped his hands on his jeans, glaring at Bill. “You’re cleaning this up,” he muttered, gesturing at the rabbit debris on the floor. “And no more killing woodland creatures. Or anything. No more murder.”

“What? C’mon, kid, you’re robbing me of one of life’s pleasures.”

“I mean it, Bill.”

Bill moved to say something else, but at that moment, he blacked out. He could feel himself tumble to the floor. Dipper grabbed his upper arm, barely able to keep him upright.

“ _Woo!_ Aaah. Think I fell into the seventh dimension for a minute there.” Bill shook off Dipper’s arm. “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Dipper stepped away, cringing. “God, I thought that smell was just the rabbit. Okay, worry about the mess later.” Grabbing Bill’s sleeve, he pulled the two of them towards the bathroom door. “You’ve got to learn a thing or two about hygiene, Bill.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You. You stink from working outside all day yesterday. You have to take a shower to wash all the grime away.”

“Oooh, you mean when humans stand underneath water for twenty minutes?” Bill had noticed his body felt grosser today than it did yesterday. That was because of the outside work? Would a shower fix that?

Once they were inside the bathroom, Dipper let him go. Bill eyed the various bottles that littered the shower wall. When he turned around, Dipper was still standing there. “Uuh, Pine Tree, I’m pretty sure you have to pay if you want to see a show.”

“No, you idiot. I’m going to show you how to use the shower.”

“You worry too much, kid. I’m pretty sure I can handle a little soap and water.”

“Yeah, right. Next thing I know the house is flooded because you thought it would be fun to try and drown yourself.”

“Hey, I knowthe limits. Drowning is off the table. Have a littlefaith. Is this because of the sink thing from yesterday?”

Dipper scrunched up his nose. “In part. Now,” He reached over and picked up several of the bottles. As he systematically went through each soap and their function, along with how to operate the shower, Bill shook his head.  _Why don’t they just lick themselves clean? This is ridiculous._

When Dipper wrapped up the shower tutorial, ending with the instruction to never leave the bathroom naked, he thought he would finally be left in peace. But then the kid walked around him only to park in front of the cabinet. He picked up a stick with bristles. “This is a toothbrush. You put toothpaste on it and clean your teeth. Do  _not_ eat the toothpaste. Do  _not_ use a toothbrush that isn’t yours for any purpose.”

Bill rolled his eye, a second away from shoving the kid out the door. “I  _get_ it, Pine Tree—”

“Not done.” He pointed to a bottle of green liquid. “Mouthwash. Take a cupful and swish it in your mouth. Do  _not_ swallow it. I mean it, Bill. Aaand, what else, what else … ” He held up a blue stick of a buttery substance, ignoring Bill’s annoyed glare. “Deodorant.  _Very_ important. Apply it to your armpits every morning or you  _will_ stink up the air around you.”

“Is that all?”

Dipper pressed his lips together and hummed, looking around the bathroom. “I thinkthat’s everything. Oh, make sure you don’t forget about applying Crisco. You do that after getting out of the shower.”

“The what?”

“Yeah, Crisco. You don’t know? See, you want to rub cooking batter all over your body and lay down on a piece of aluminum foil—”

Groaning, Bill shoved the kid out the door. “Play me for an idiot, will you? Joke like that again, kid, and I might just believe you. Do you want to see me naked and covered in cooking batter?”

“God forbid. I like having eyesight, thank you,” Dipper snorted before Bill slammed the door in his face.  _Smartass._ Torn between smirking and going out there to punch the kid in the face, Bill instead stripped out of his clothes and turned on the shower using the handle doohickey. Once the water was scorching, he stepped in and sighed in content.

By the time he shut off the water, smelling nauseatingly fruity and his skin beet red, his mood had significantly improved. Who would have thought something as asinine as cleaning himself under hot water would have such a positive effect?

He dried himself with the towel and, following Dipper’s instructions, wrapped himself up and headed upstairs to change.

…

During breakfast, as Mabel stacked his plate with a curious assortment of blue French toast, Bill looked up at her hopefully.

“Sorry, Bill,” she said. “I only made one jar of Mabel Syrup.”

Bill deflated, sinking down into his chair.

The chore for that day was scrubbing floors in the Mystery Shack gift shop. After breakfast, Mabel had handed him a bucket of soap and water along with a damp rag. “I’m going to be cleaning the parlor room,” she said. “Dipper’s gonna be mowing the grass. Call us if you need us.”

As Bill did as he was told, his good mood plummeted further. His back started aching like mad and there was nothing quite like the frustration of cleaning stains out of the floor. He vaguely entertained notions of invading the twins’ dreams and causing them to experience their insides being melted, but those idle fancies didn’t last long. It just made him depressed.  _You can’t exactly invade dreams when you’re trapped in a fleshy vessel, after all._

He was too tired to care about the stupid chores the twins were making him do. He just wanted relief from this purgatory.

Around midday, Dipper entered the gift shop. “Hanging in there?’

“If by ‘hanging’, you mean ‘swinging from a noose’, give it a bit. Don’t rush me.” He straightened up and groaned when pain shot up his back. “Honestly, it’s not going to be much longer.”

Dipper touched his jaw in thought. He gestured Bill to stand up. “Follow me.”

“What?”

“Come on. I’ll give you something for the back pain.”

Too spent to argue, Bill tossed the rag into the soap bucket and stood up, holding back another groan. He followed Dipper through the house, nearly running into the wall when they rounded a corner. When they arrived at the kitchen, Dipper opened a cabinet and pulled out … an electric blanket?

“It’s a heating pad,” Dipper said, plugging the cord into an outlet. “You put it on your back and it helps with the pain. We just have to wait for it to get warm.” He patted the counter. “Sit down.”

When Bill got close to Dipper, a curious scent assaulted Bill’s senses and he scrunched up his nose; not that the smell was particularly unpleasant or that it was any worse than the kid’s usual scent.

Bill jerked awake when the kid snapped his fingers under his nose “You smell weird,” he barked, trying to cover his dozing.

“I what?”

“You heard me.” Bill winced at the defensiveness in his tone. “And you tell me  _I_ need a shower. That’s rich, kid.”

Dipper brought his wrist to his nose. “I’ve been mowing the lawn all day. I guess I smell like cut grass.” For some damned reason, the kid started grinning. “It’s actually a really pleasant scent to humans, you know.”

Bill thought about that, hoisting himself up on the counter. “Cut grass has a smell? And humans like it?”

Dipper nodded, wrapping the pad in a moist towel. Bill waited for the kid to go on, but he never did. Dipper held up the pad. “Pull up your shirt.”

“Why?”

“Why? So, I can put the pad on your back, why else?”

“I mean, why does cut grass have a certain smell? And why do humans like it?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in this stuff?” Dipped asked.

Bill looked away, vision swirling as he struggled to stay upright.

“What? Is it so unreasonable for the demon deprived of sensation for billions of years to be interested in the things his body is making him feel?”

Dipper tightened his lips. He yanked up Bill’s shirt, pressing the pad flush against his back. Bill cried out, squirming.

“No, I suppose not,” Dipper said, strapping the pad to Bill’s body and pulling his shirt back down. He leaned against the counter. “Well, when you cut the grass, it releases this sort of distress signal to other plants. Like a flare, almost. As for why humans like the smell, I don’t really know. It’s just a really soothing scent, I guess.”

Bill slouched down, closing his eye as the warmth of the electric blanket sunk into his back. He swallowed a sigh of relief, breaking out a huge grin. “That’s because you humans are sick freaks.” Dipper looked up at him and Bill’s smirk grew. “You’re basically getting turned on by the agonizing screams of dying plants. That’s twisted.”

“Like you’re one to talk about being twisted.”

“I know. I like it.”

Dipper shook his head, and – miracle of miracles – he smiled. “Whatever you say, man.” He pushed away from the counter, heading for the front door. “You can rest here until the pain dies down, then you can get back to work. Also,” he added, looking back as he turned the corner, “Mabel has some sleeping pills from when she had the flu a few months back. I’ll find them for you. They should help you fall asleep.”

Bill swung his feet over the edge of the counter, lost in his mind as he heard the door click shut. A part of him flared with suspicion at the sudden accommodation, but Bill understood Dipper. It’s why he’s always been so easy to manipulate. And it may have been the sleep deprivation, but Bill couldn’t find it in himself to question the kid’s actions.

_If he wants to play the host, I’m not going to stop him._

After about twenty minutes had passed, he reached down and ripped off the heating pad. The pain in his back had all but vanished.

…

When he returned to his room later that night, he found a marked capsule next to a bottle of water. It must be the sleeping medicine. He picked up the capsule, finding a sheet of notebook paper underneath it.

 _SWALLOW WITH WATER. DO NOT CHEW. DO NOT TAKE MORE THAN TWO. I MEAN IT, BILL._ It was Dipper’s abhorrent handwriting.

It took a few minutes for Bill to open it, nearly resorting to biting it off when he realized he was supposed to pinch the sides.  _Why does everything have to be so convoluted in this dimension?_ Following the kid’s instructions, he pressed two of the white pills onto his tongue and took a long gulp of water.  _Cheers._

He laid down in bed after changing, staring up at the creeping shadows on the ceiling. He waited. After perhaps an hour or two, he could feel his muscles become heavier and it became harder to keep his eye open.

He floated in that exhausted limbo for ages, feeling like he was seconds away from sleep. For one moment, it felt like he had finally nodded off, his conscious having slipped away from him, before his body suddenly jerked itself upright and he shot up, heart pounding and gasping for breath.

Clawing his chest, he rolled out of bed and fell onto the floor. He glanced up at the clock and snarled in frustration.  _Hours. It’s been hours and Pine Tree’s medicine is completely busted._ If anything, it made his situation worse, as his muscles now felt like dead weight.  _Nothing. Not now. I don’t know when— I-I don’t understand how … how did this …_

Bill yanked at his hair and curled up on his side, a second away from screaming. He stayed there, immobile, struggling to bite a scream. Once he was sure he was calm, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He couldn’t even pinpoint what was wrong, much less figure out how to fix it. Was it because he was a human? Was it because he was a demon?

A horrible itch forming under his eyes, he fell onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He waited for the sun to rise.

…

At around seven thirty the next morning, Mabel went upstairs to wake up Bill. The memory of finding an empty bed yesterday made her nervous, and she wanted to make sure their latest housemate hadn’t wandered off again.

She knocked on the door. “Bill, are you in there?” When nothing answered, she slowly opened the door. There, she found Bill lying belly down on the floor, surrounded by broken pencils and crayons and unfinished drawings. “What are you drawing?”

“Star?” Bill looked up as if just now realizing she was there. Large bags had formed underneath his eye and his face was pale and sunken.

Mabel tried to smile. “I didn’t realize you had an artistic side, Bill.” She craned her neck, trying to get a better look. Bill covered his drawings protectively. “It looks like a big pile of steel grinders. A collapsed skyscraper?”

“A collapsed,  _unfinished_ skyscraper. You can see all the construction workers’ bodies at the bottom there,” Bill said. Mabel nodded. “I couldn’t find the right shade of red for the construction worker’s blood,” he continued, returning to the paper, “so I got out a needle and colored it in with some of mine. Then it turned brown and I had to draw over it anyway. It was annoying.”

“You hurt yourself?”

“Yeah? That’s what I said. Did your ears blow out since yesterday? I wouldn’t be surprised, these bodies are so flawed.”

Mabel stood and went to the closet. When she returned, she had the first aid kit. “Show me your cuts.” He glared at her from the corner of his eye but otherwise pushed himself up. She pulled back the arm of his sweater, revealing several lacerations on pale skin. “While I appreciate the lengths you’re willing to go for your art, you shouldn’t leave opens wounds like this. You could get infected.”

“It’s just another flaw, right?”

Mabel refrained from comment until she applied the last of the bandages, pulling down his sleeve. “Come on,” she said, standing up. “Let’s get some breakfast. I’ll make us some coffee.”

Setting down Mabel’s pencils, Bill stood up on shaky feet and followed her out. He had to be helped down the stairs, leaning heavily against Mabel. Setting him down in the chair, she quickly whipped him up something to eat and started a pot of coffee. Bill rested his head on the table’s surface, breathing shallowly.

She placed a bowl of corn flakes in front of him. He glared with one, sallow eye.

“What is this?”

“Cereal. Sorry I can’t make anything fancy. I was planning on going shopping this weekend.”

Sighing, Bill pushed himself upright as if several tons were pressed against his back. He evaluated the flakes with a drowsy gaze before planting his face in the cereal. A moment later, he shot up, spluttering milk. He wiped his face as Mabel held out a spoon.

“You’re going to have to learn sooner or later,” she said matter-of-factly. “Might as well start now.”

He took the spoon with nothing more than a sniff. Mabel chalked up his cooperation to his sleep deprivation. She returned to the coffee pot, unwrapping a granola bar as she waited. The two ate their breakfast in silence.

Mabel poured coffee into two cups, stirring in however much cream and sugar she thought Bill would like, before setting one of the mugs in front of him. “Here. This might help perk you up. It’ll warm your tummy, at least.”

Taking the mug, Bill dipped one of his fingers in and licked it. He shrugged and grabbed the mug, gulping coffee down so fast she was sure he was burning his throat. She refrained from comment, however, taking a sip from her own mug.

Dipper wandered into the kitchen, dressed in his yard work clothes. Mabel stood up before he could so much as say ‘good morning.’

“Hey bro-bro, can I talk to you for a minute,” she asked hurriedly. “You can help yourself to the pot, Bill,” she added before heading for the living room. Dipper glanced at Bill, who was too engrossed by his coffee to notice, before dazedly following after his sister.

“What’s going on?” he murmured. Mabel was biting the nail of her pinky, pacing about the living room.

“Bill still isn’t sleeping.”

“What? Still?”

“I’m getting really worried, Dipper. If this keeps up, he’s going to seriously hurt himself.”

“I just don’t understand what could be wrong. I don’t think Bill knows either. How are we supposed to fix a problem we know nothing about?”

“Okay.” Mabel clasped her hands. “Maybe we can take him to a sleep clinic. Remember when Wendy’s brother couldn’t sleep and it turned out he had a hormone imbalance?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. The ritual notes stated that the body would be in perfect condition for a human. He hasn’t had that body long enough to mess with its hormones. Maybe he just needs stronger medicine. I could get some prescription. There’s only so much his body can take before it passes out.”

“That might just make things worse. He's in a fragile enough state as it is. Oh,You know what I should do? I should call Pacifica. She’s got a head for all that new age meditation stuff. If it’s a spiritual thing that’s bugging him, she’ll be able to help.”

“Pacifica’s down in San Diego. I don’t think she’ll have enough time to come up here.”

The two exchanged ideas back and forth. The concepts got more and more outlandish, peaking when Mabel pitched, “Maybe I can hold him down and you can knock him out with a baseball bat?”

“Mabel, as much as I’d love to hit Bill with a bat, I don’t think that’s—”

At that moment, Bill burst into the living room. His face was flushed bright red and the pupil in his right eye compressed to the size of a pinpoint. A maniac grin cut his face in half.

“Goodmorning _,_ Pine Tree! Hey, those sleeping pills turned out to be completelyuseless. You know what’s not useless?” He held up the green, empty mug. “Coffee. Coffee works wonders. I thought I was going to die just a few minutes ago but now I can’t even close my eye. Look at me! I can’t stop shaking.” He slapped himself across the face. “So, what are we doing today? Want me to shrub the ceilings? Dust the toilet? Build an elaborate tomb for your eventual burial? Anything you want.”

Dipper stared, slack-jawed. “I was going to have us clean the gutters—” Mabel dug her heel into her brother’s toe and he yelped.

“Actually, Bill, we were just talking,” she said, “and we think you should take the day off.”

“Take a day off? And do what? Waste this body while it’s at its physical and mental peak? I don’t think so. Come on, Pine Tree, we have work to do.”

Bill looped his arm through Dipper’s elbow and dragged him towards the door. Dipper nearly tripped over Bill’s lanky legs, his arm trapped in Bill’s iron grip.

“Bill,” Mabel said. “You still have the mug.”

“Oops.” Bill backed into Dipper’s chest and stepped on his toes as he turned around. He trudged to the kitchen and confidently placed the mug in the trash can.

“Bill, that’s … that’s not—”

But Bill had already charged out the door, lugging an increasingly aggravated Dipper behind him.

Mabel sighed, slumping her shoulders. She ventured into the kitchen to retrieve Bill’s recently discarded mug when a disturbing sight caught her eyes. The coffee pot, freshly brewed, rested on the kitchen table. It was completely empty.

She ran a hand through her hair and groaned.

…

Bill’s blood felt like liquid fire. He wanted to leap off a building. He wanted to soar. He wanted to break into someone’s mind and make them relive their most traumatic memories.  _And all because of that miraculous drink. Humans and their ingenuity._

He danced on the balls of his feet as Dipper came around with a ladder. He kicked up his knees, breathing heavily by the time the kid situated it on the side of the Shack. When Bill lurched forward, intent on scurrying up to the roof, he ran into Dipper’s arm.

“Bill, this reallyisn’t a good idea,” Dipper insisted. “You’re exhausted and you’ve never had caffeine before. And if this is anything like that hot sauce, you’re going to be a giant mess in a minute.” Bill rolled his eye and stepped back, continuing to run in place.

“ _Exhausted_ , he says. This is the best I’ve felt all week, Pine Tree.”

“You haven’t even changed out of your pajamas.”

“Listen, kid, if I need an expert on how to endanger the lives of everything and everyone around me, I’ll be sure to call you.”

Dipper’s lips thinned. With a shrug, he stepped back, tucking his hands into his pocket. “Whatever, man. Do what you want.”

Bill grinned.  _Too easy._ Taking hold of the ladder’s rungs, he scampered up onto the roof, splaying on his back as he waited for Dipper to follow after. A cloud leisurely rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun. Bill closed his eye, momentarily enjoying the cool shade as Dipper stepped onto the roof, a garden hose in hand.

“Take this and start flushing out the gutter,” he said curtly. “Tell me if you see any leaks.” Despite the fact that he was visibly upset, he still managed a quiet, “Be careful,” before scooting towards the opposite side of the roof.

Sitting up, Bill crossed his legs and flipped on the nozzle of the spout, training the gushing water towards the filthy gutter. It wasn’t the most epic work they could be doing (indeed, he’d rather go into the woods and eviscerate a majestic stag or something), but this was the job Dipper assigned. So long as his ears continued ringing and his blood buzzed through his head, he would be more than content.

About ten minutes later, just as Bill reached the end of the drain pipe, Dipper called him over. “Hey, bring the hose. There’s a clog over here.”

Bill nodded and began rising to his feet when a wave of pain and nausea rolled over him. A huge, black spot clogged his eyesight and it felt like his head had disconnected from his body. He lost feeling in his legs.

The ground started rushing towards him, and his stomach jumped into his throat. He floated in midair— _I’ve jumped out of the body, I’m a demon again, noononono_ —before something seized his arm. He slammed into the side of the house but he didn’t fall. He looked up. Dipper was kneeling over the edge of the roof, face red with exertion as he struggled to hold up Bill’s dead weight.

“Don’t move,” he whispered harshly. Using both arms, he heaved Bill back onto the roof. Bill scrambled up, trying to stand and failing due to his shaking legs. His body erupted in shivers and he collapsed onto his side, panting.

Dipper loomed over him, touching his face and pushing back his eyelid. Bill tried looking anywhere that wasn’t his face but found it impossible. Finally, Dipper backed off, pulling Bill into a sitting position.

“Take a deep breath,” he said. “Wait until you think you can walk again, then go up to the attic and rest.  _Mabel!_ ” Bill flinched when Dipper shouted. A moment later, Mabel walked out from the side door, looking up at them. “Can you help Bill get to his room?”

Her face was stark with worry, but she nodded regardless. With both of their help, Bill was able to climb down the ladder. He returned to the attic without a word, curling up under his bedsheet covers and ignoring Mabel’s offer of help. _That’s enough_ , he would have said if it didn’t feel like he had swallowed his tongue.

The door behind Mabel closed with a resounding  _click._

…

Time passed with no rhyme or reason. Bill dangled at the very edge of wakefulness. Sometimes when he opened his eye, it was completely dark. Stars decorated the ceiling and nightingales shrieked in his ears. Other times, tendrils of sunlight poured through the attic’s window, melting the floors and making his skin feel like it was sliding off his body.

After that, he made a point of keeping his eye shut. It did little to help. Visions and sensations crawled over him. Pine Tree showed up once or twice, talking and sometimes screaming with blood leaking out of his eyes. A body without its flesh loomed over him, and he only knew it was Star when it began speaking.

He sometimes saw  _Her_. During those times, he would crawl into a dark corner and gnaw his fingers until he tasted blood, willing the hallucination to fade away.

Eventually, Bill regained control of his senses. He realized he was still in the attic of the Mystery Shack, bent up on the floor with a blanket draped over him. It was nighttime, maybe early morning. He couldn’t remember falling out of bed, but he couldn’t find the energy to linger on the fact. Instead, he pulled himself up onto aching legs and headed for the door, needing something prove that everything around him was real.

The staircase stretched out beneath him, seeming to go for hundreds of miles. He could hear voices in the room below and see the flickering light of a television. Sinking onto his haunches, he extended one leg and hoisted himself down one step at a time. After hours and hours or maybe a few minutes, he reached the bottom of the stairs and stood back up, glancing into the living room.

Both the twins were stationed in front of the television. Mabel was asleep, sitting on the floor with legs stretched in front of her. Dipper sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. Bill stood half-hidden behind the wall, gazing at the scene before him as he tried stringing two coherent thoughts together.

As if sensing him, Dipper turned and spotted Bill lingering at the base of the stairs. He tensed up, then relaxed when he realized it was only Bill.

“What are you doing there? It’s two o’clock in the morning.”

It took Bill a long moment to process what had been said. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“There was a movie marathon on TV. Mabel wanted to watch it. Do …” He paused, shifting. “Do you want to sit down?”

Bill took a small step out of the shadows towards the couch. Dipper moved to the other side, making room for him as he sat down. Bill curled up, pressing his legs to his chest and hugging his knees. He gazed at the television, uncomprehensive.

“What is this?”

“Umm,  _Tomb of the Lighting Bugs_ , I think. It’s Japanese.”

“Hmm.”

Dipper peered at Bill through his peripheral vision, disturbed by the paleness of his face. “Do you want anything?” he felt inclined to ask, uncomfortable with how miserable Bill looked. “Something to drink? Eat? You didn’t have dinner, after all.”

But Bill was silent, and Dipper was sure he hadn’t been heard that time. Making a decision, he stood up, walking through Bill’s field of vision before disappearing into the kitchen. Bill barely noticed, his drooping eyes trained to the television.

When Dipper returned, he had a mug of tea in each hand. He held one out to Bill, who jumped slightly.

“Here,” Dipper said. Bill continued to stare, and Dipper huffed with impatience. “It’s  _tea_.”

“I knowwhat it is, Pine Tree,” Bill snapped, and Dipper hid a smile.  _That’s more like it_. “Why are you waving it under my nose like a dog?”

“Well, whenever I can’t sleep, I usually make myself a cup of tea to relax.” Bill refused to budge. “What do you have to lose?”

Snorting, Bill finally took the mug, although he didn’t drink it. Dipper sat back down, taking a long sip. The two regressed into an awkward silence, occasionally broken by Mabel’s snores. He paid little attention to the movie, lost in thought.

Time passed. As the movie began wrapping itself up and faded to black, he roused when he heard a small, snuffling noises sound next to him, quickly followed by an aggravated grunt.

“Dipper, this body is dripping again.”

Dipper looked over and felt shocked to his core. Rivulets of water fell from Bill’s reddened eye. It was shocking. “Bill, are you crying?”

“Crying? You mean that things humans do whenever they’re at funerals?” He sniffled, then groaned even louder. Reaching up, he swiped his hand across his cheek and pulled it back. His face distorted with disgust. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t you make me say it again,” Bill snarled. Despite himself, Dipper smiled.

“Crying, it’s … it’s a reaction whenever we’re sad. Sometimes when we’re happy, too.” Dipper glanced at the television. Credits were crawling up the screen. He turned back to Bill. “Are you sad?”

“I don’t get sad. That’s just a dumb emotion you humans have to deal with because your brains are broken.”

Dipper set down the mug. Bill tensed, glaring at him through the corner of his eye. He gripped his mug so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You know what I think, Bill?” Dipper said. “Not that you asked or anything. But I don’t think you’ve entirely accepted what’s happened to you yet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just think about it. The way you described the ritual in the notes made it sound like you were altering the fabric of your soul. You’ve been traumatized. Maybe you’re in shock.”

For a split second, Dipper thought Bill was going to blow up.  _That’s ridiculous, you stupid kid,_ he would say. Instead, he became impossibly paler. He licked his lips. “And just what do you think I should do about it?”

“Accept it, I guess. You’re one of us now. A human. A meatsack. And I don’t think you’ll be able to function until you come to terms with that.”

He waited for Bill to respond. A spoken phrase, a muscle twitch, anything. But Bill merely looked away, staring into the static of the television screen. Sighing, Dipper settled back against the couch, grabbing his mug and finishing off his drink. The next movie began rolling.

Dipper hoisted up his legs, trying to avoid touching Bill as he cozied up against the couch. He set down the empty mug before resting his head against the pillow, sleep pressing down on him.

Meanwhile, Bill sat rigidly. He wrapped his hands around his mug, savoring the warmth of the tea.  _Accept it, he says. What a crackpot. Nobody’s more ‘accepting’ of this body than I am._ It was his safe haven from a raging hurricane. He’d rather go insane than be forced back out  _there._

_Maybe that’s the problem? This body is more than just a shelter. It’s you._

_Shut up, Pine Tree. You’ve given me enough advice._

_You’re not listening to me, Bill. It’s the way you see yourself—_

_I said, shut up._

The horrible itching sensation formed in the back of his eye again, and Bill angrily gulped down the cooling tea.  _I’m not like them. They’re dirt. They’re scum. I’ve watched them for millions of years and they’ve only gotten dumber._

_And you think you’re better than that? Just look at yourself. You can barely even stand. How could you possibly call yourself ‘better’ when you can’t even accept reality?_

Bill wanted to argue. He wanted to gnash his teeth and pull out his hair and scream until his throat ripped in half. But he was just so,  _so_ tired. He didn’t have any control of his muscles as he sank into the couch.

…

Hours later, as morning light crept into the living room, Bill woke up. He blinked groggily and glanced down, realizing with a jolt that he just recently used Dipper’s stomach as a pillow.

 _But more importantly_ , he thought,  _I had been asleep. How?_ The memory of the conversation between both Dipper and himself was a black spot in his mind, as was most of that horrid day. Instead, he stared at the body stretched out below him leaping to several wildly different conclusions.

He tensed at the sound of footsteps. Without thinking, he fell back onto Dipper’s body and closed his eye, feigning sleep. A moment later, the footsteps halted in front of the couch. He heard the telltale sound of a camera’s shutter click and a feminine giggling.

 _Shooting Star,_ he figured. The footsteps wandered off into the other room, and Bill dared to crack open his eye.  _She’s gone._ He relaxed. Tiredness still crept along his bones, and he couldn’t find the motivation to get up and trudge up to the attic. Besides, if his hypothesis is correct …

Deciding it didn’t really matter, and since he was still supposed to be sleeping as far as Mabel was concerned, he settled down and closed his eye, the rhythmic heartbeat of the body beneath following him deep into his subconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).)


	4. Dipper Pines, a Day in the Life of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an interesting morning and a disastrous forest expedition, Dipper realizes how much his life will change due to the influence of Bill Cipher.

Dipper woke up on Sunday morning to a warm body pressed against his back. His first half coherent thought was it must be Mabel, as she and Dipper would often share beds when one had had a nightmare. They hadn’t done this since they were eleven, but who else could it be? Dipper didn’t fall into bed with strangers.

“Mabel?” He slowly blinked awake, only to squeeze his eyes shut again, sunlight piercing through the window. Stretching out, he patted around for the body behind him. “Mabel, what are you doing in here?”

He expected to find the tangled tresses of his sister’s unmanageably long hair. He felt around, finding a face, a mouth, a nose, an … eyepatch?

“Hands off the merchandise, kid, some of us are trying to sleep.”

Dipper’s eyes flew open. He turned around, finding a head of blonde hair.

_Not a dream. Bill._

_Bill is in my bed._

A yell squeaked out of his throat. He squirmed away and tumbled out of bed, head banging on the floor. Seeing stars, he propped himself up on his elbows, rubbing the back of his head. Bill sat up, staring down at him with a sleepy blue eye.

“What are you doing on the floor?” he asked

“What am I—? What are  _you_ doing in  _my_ bed?”

“Sleeping. Like you. It’s great _,_ by the way. Bill threw his legs over the edge of the bed, stretching as Dipper pushed himself onto his feet. “Sleeping, that is.”

“Good-for-freaking-you, why would you sneak into mybed to do it? You have two beds in the attic.”

“See, it didn’t make much sense to me at first either. But then when I woke up next to you on the couch yesterday morning—”

“You mean were awake for that?” Dipper had thought he managed to slip away from that incriminating scene before anyone had seen it.

“Of course, I was. Anyway, I figured, okay,” he held out his hands, “so you were the one who bound me to this body, right?  _Maybe_ there’s some hidden connection I don’t know about? It’s not entirely unreasonable, after all. Magic is a rambunctious element, it can do unpredictable things. So, I decided to test it out. I snuck in here last night after you were asleep. Curled up, got comfortable, and  _bam!_ Worked like a charm.” He gestured to his smiling face. “Insomnia solved.”

Dipper couldn’t remember the last time he had been so stupefied. “That is the dumbestthing I think I have ever heard come out of your mouth. How could you possibly have made that connection?”

Bill blew a raspberry, rising to his feet. “What else could it be? Four days without sleep and the next thing I know, I’m waking up on your bedraggled corpse. The fact that I managed to fall asleep again last night just proves that I’m right.”

Dipper ran a hand through his hand.  _Has he always been this stupid and I’ve just never realized it?_ “Do you even remember the conversation we had last night? About your dissonance?”

At that, Bill frowned. “We didn’t talk about that last night. I came downstairs, you gave me your tea drink thing, and the next thing I knew, I was conked out.”

“Yes, we did.” Dipper sucked his teeth, his frustration rising. “We talked about how you were traumatized. You had been crying because of  _Tomb of the Lightening Bugs._ ”

“What? Me? Crying?”

“Yes. I was pointing how you were in an altered state of existence and—”

Bill held up a hand and Dipper paused.

“Listen, Pine Tree,” he said, smirking, “while this may come as surprising to your inferior understanding, demons have perfect memories. I can remember the first-time you mortals figured out how to make bricks. I wouldn’t just forgetsomething. You’rethe one that’s misremembering.  _Crying_.” He chortled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Bill patted his shoulder and turned away. Dipper clawed his hands, wanting to shake some sense into Bill’s thick head.  _Except that you’re_ not  _a demon anymore. That was the whole point of the conversation._

“Look, Bill, I know that you’re frustrated and desperate for answers, but that doesn’tmean you can just—” The sharp ringing of the landline phone interrupted him.

“You gonna get that?” Bill asked as he stood in front of Dipper’s bookshelf, eyeing the spines with pursed lips. The phone rang again and Dipper cringed.  Torn between his bubbling anger and obligation as the Shack’s boss, he snarled before dashing out of the room. He charged into the gift shop and picked up the phone in the middle of its last ring.

“Thank you for calling the Mystery Shack, this is Dipper Pines, how can I help you?” he said in one long breath. His mind was far, far away from the conversation.  _I swear if he thinks he can make a habit out of this …_ “Sorry, sir, the Shack isn’t open on Sundays.”  _He doesn’t actually think he needs me to sleep, does he? Like some sort of teddy bear?_ “No, sir. Yes, sir. Our tours are every Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. The gift shop is open Monday through Friday.”  _He’s just trying to get under my skin like the jackass he is._ “Okay. Again, my apologies. Okay. Have a good day.”

He put the phone back in its cradle and dragged a hand across his face, sighing.  _God, but what if he does think he needs me to sleep?_ The thought was absurd.

When he returned to his room, Bill was propped up against the wall with an open book in hand. He looked up when Dipper walked through the doorway. “Hey Pine Tree, isn’t this that Boring book you’ve been writing?”

“How did you kno—? Never mind, stupid question.”

Bill grinned, and he flipped the book around to its summary. “Ahem.  _For their summer vacation, 12-year-old twin siblings Alex and Ariel are dropped off in the town Boring, Oregon—_ Oh wow, I wonder what could have possiblyinspired this setup. Am I in it? Tell me I’m in it.”

Dipper snatched the book away. “Don’t touch that. Don’t touch anything else in this room. It’s all off limits.”

“Including me?” Bill patted down his chest. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“No, not including you.”

“What about the floor?”

Dipper fumed.

“How about the air? I can’t exactly breathe if I don’t—”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“Technically, I’m not even a week old.”

“ _Get out of my room, Bill!_ ”

“Alright, okay, kid.” Bill held up his hands in surrender, sauntering out the room. “I’m leaving. This is me leaving. Don’t get your socks in a knot.” After he disappeared into the hallway, Dipper fought the urge to slam the door shut.  _As if I would give him the satisfaction._ Instead, he gently closed the door, placed his book on the nightstand, and groaned, scrubbing the stubble on his jaw.  _Ughh, I need to shave._

Firmly placing every thought of Bill out of his mind, Dipper collected a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom.  _I shouldn’t let him get to me._

With the help of a hot shower, Dipper could regain a semblance of normality.  _Just your average day with your average weirdo. It isn’t even worse than the sink thing._

Mabel had already started breakfast by the time Dipper got to the kitchen.

“This is the second time you’ve been up before 8:30. On a  _Sunday_ no less,” he said, grabbing a teabag and a mug from the cupboards. “What gives? Any more bad dreams?”

“Oh, I just wanted to check on Bill again.” She flipped the omelet, pursing her lips before sprinkling the entrée with some unknown spice. “He totally freaked me out the other day when he vanished into the woods.”

“And he was alright?”

Mabel took a moment to suck her fingernails, moving the omelet onto a plate and picking up another egg, before finally facing her brother. She smiled.

“He’s fine. He looked well rested. About time, too,” she added, cracking the egg. The whites flowed onto the pain with a satisfying  _sizz_. “I wonder why he wasn’t able to sleep for so long. It’s strange, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, strange.” Dipper licked his lips as he filled the mug with hot water, wondering how best to phrase his next sentence. “You remember yesterday morning when Bill passed out on top of me on the couch?”

“Sure do,” she said. “I put the photo in my ‘Cute Stuffz’ scrapbook.”

“You took a picture?”  _I thought I was the only one to see that. Who else saw it? Why does everyone always see when I do something embarrassing?_

“Of course, I did! You didn’t think I could pass up a scrapportunity like that, did you?” she said. Dipper grumbled under his breath. Mabel had the decency to blush. “Sorry. I can rip it up if you’d like.”

 _Like I could ask her to remove something from her scrapbooks._ “No, it’s fine. Anyway, apparently, Bill has it in his head that he needs me nearby to sleep. I woke up and found him next to me in bed this morning.”

“What? Wait.” Mabel sipped a glass of water and spat it out. A fleck of water hit Dipper’s face. “He was  _what?_ ”

“That was good. I appreciate that. Well done.” Dipper wiped away the bead of water from under his eye. Mabel bowed, setting down the glass. “And yeah, Bill was in my bed. Super creepy way to start the day, right?”

“No kidding. So, what, he thinks you’re like a security blanket or something?”

Dipper shrugged. “I guess. Unless he’s trying to punk me, which is a possibility.”

“That’s soweird. Why would he think that?”

“He said something about me being the one who did the ritual, so there must be some sort of connection.”

Mabel hummed in contemplation, poking at her omelet. She added some mushrooms and peppers before continuing. “Well, he’s not exactly wrong, is he?”

“What do you mean?”

“I meanthat he was able to get some sleep last night and the night before. That doesn’t mean he’s right, but if that’s what he thinks …”

Dipper groaned, throwing his head back. “Mabel, I am notgoing to let Bill sleep next to me. He’s being delusional.” 

Mabel chewed her lip, setting down the third omelet on a plate. “Yeah, yeah, that’s weird, I wouldn’t ask you to do that. The idea of you two have a freaky ‘connection’ is crazy stupid. I think he just happened to pass out on top of you. Maybe now it’s just placebo?”

 _Great, so now we have paranormal dissonance, some freaky soul connection, and placebo as possible theories._  Dipper settled down in his chair, sipping his beverage. Mabel opened her mouth when she was interrupted by a loud banging noise on the staircase. Bill appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing a … Dipper spat out his tea.

“Copycat,” Mabel mumbled. Bill ignored both of them, straightening the bowtie on his yellow tuxedo.

“Morning, brats,” he said as he took a seat adjacent to Dipper. Dipper was still recovering from his spit take, wiping his mouth with a napkin and cradling his burning nose.

Mabel approached the table balancing three food plates and then turned to Bill, taking a closer look at his getup. “Oh my god, Dipper, it’s that suit Aunt Paddy sent you for Prom. Didn’t you say you were going to burn that?”

“Guess I never got around to it,” Dipper said. Thankfully, the atrocious tuxedo had been too small for him, giving him the perfect excuse not to wear it. It seemed to fit Bill perfectly.

“Good thing you didn’t.” Bill adjusted his new black gloves. “I was beginning to think I would  _never_ find something worth wearing in those boxes.”

Mabel placed the plates on the table. Dipper was greeted with his eggy likeness. “ _Bwomp._  Face omelets for your eating pleasure. I know you like hot stuff, Bill, so I added some— _Ah-ah!_ ” Mabel snapped as Bill reached for his breakfast. He straightened up as she held out a fork. He sneered.

“Oh, come on.”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. You eat my food, you treat it with respect. Don’t paw at it with your grubby hands.” She wiggled it under his nose until he finally took it. He rolled his eye but began devouring the omelet with his usual enthusiasm, adapting to the utensils rather quickly.  _He probably likes getting to stab something._

“That does remind me,” Mabel started as she took her own seat. “We really need to get Bill his own wardrobe.”

Dipper hummed in thought as he brought his mug to his lips. “Yeah. I could head to th—” Without warning, Bill plucked the mug out of his hand and took several long gulps. Dipper watched, mouth slightly agape. Before he could form a proper reaction, Bill set the mug back down and slid it over, half of the tea gone. Dipper blinked.

“Do you want something to drink, Bill?” Dipper asked.

Bill shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said through a mouthful of omelet.

Mabel cleared her throat. “ _Anyway_. I was thinking I could hit up the thrift shop on the way back from the art exhibit today. Bill’s only a few inches shorter than me, so it’ll be a cinch. Then we all can head to the mall and do some real shopping next weekend.”

“The art show was today?” Dipper groaned inwardly. This would be the first time he would be completely alone with Bill. “You don’t have to worry about the clothes. I could—”

But Mabel waved him away. “Relax, you’ve been working all week. It’s your day off, live it up. I’ve got this.”

Dipper leaned back in his chair, finishing off the last of the tea. Bill had yet to look up from his food. His eye was puffy and watering and his face was flushed bright red. He didn’t complain, though, and when he was finished, he slumped over the table and sighed.

“Excellent.” Standing up, he patted down his new suit and tipped an imaginary hat. “I bid thee farewell, brats.”

“Thank you, Mabel,” Dipper called out as Bill headed for the stairs.

“ _Je Moeder!_ ” The attic door slammed shut. Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other across the table.

“What did he just say? Was that even English?”

“Huh. Does he know other languages?” Mabel shrugged. “I mean, I guess he makes sense if he did. Weird.”

 _Yes. Weird seemed to be the word of the day._ Dipper polished off his omelet before standing and heading to the sink. “Go on ahead. I’ll take care of the dishes.”

“ _Aw_ , look at you.” Mabel winked, standing up as well. “You know, you’re going to be a great househusband someday.”

“Meh meh househusband, bleh.” Dipper elbowed Mabel as she put her dish in the sink. She pinched his arm.

“I’m going to go get ready. Candy’s gonna be waiting for me.” She patted his shoulder. “Play nice with Bill, alright?”

Apprehensive, he wished he could ask Mabel to stick around, at least until this whole arrangement felt more normal, but knew Mabel’s been looking forward to this art show. She’s been working tirelessly with him to get Bill acclimated. “Just remember, Stan showed us all the best places to bury a body around here. If Bill gets any funny ideas, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Oh, you can handleit. If Bill tries anything, just kick him down a notch, okay? Just don’t kick him too hard, alright? He’s kind of a wimp.” Giving his arm a final squeeze, she started heading for her room. “Bill,” she called as she passed the staircase. “I’m heading out. Behave yourself.”

“I’m not making any promises,” a muffled voice replied. Mabel laughed and disappeared down the hall. Once Dipper finished up the dishes, he turned off the sink and headed for his office, hoping nothing else too strange happened that day.

…

The next book in his _Boring, Oregon_ series was progressing nicely. He worked diligently, tapping his computer keys and rocking to the music in his earbuds. At some point, he thought he heard a loud banging sound. He popped out an earbud and listened for a moment, before chalking it up to his imagination and returning to work. But then it happened again. 

Suddenly, Bill ran past his doorway, nothing but a flash of yellow. Then, he poked his head into the office, smiling.

“There you are, Pine Tree. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Bill, I’m trying to work—”

Bill ignored him, pushing the door aside and sauntering into his office. He was twirling a top hat on his finger. “Found this thing up in the attic,” he explained, rolling the hat onto his head. He held out his arms. “Really brings the whole ensemble together, wouldn’t you say?”

Dipper scanned the outfit from top to bottom, trying to picture his reaction if he had seen someone walking down the street wearing that getup.  _It wouldn’t be positive, I can tell you that much._ But Bill didn’t wait for an answer, adjusting his hat in the office mirror.

“It’s just missing one thing. You wouldn’t happen to have a cane in this dust hole, would you? Oh, what about that ball cane you two use for that dumb outfit?”

“We are not letting you borrow the Mr. Mystery Magic Eight-Ball Staff,” Dipper said, a headache blooming in his temple.  _Like he’s one to talk about dumb outfits._

“Hmm, you’re right. Too tacky.”

“Bill, because I’m a good person, I’m going to warn you now. If you go out wearing that outfit, you’re going to get mugged.”

Bill snorted, taking a seat in the rolling chair opposite of his desk. “Listen, Pine Tree, just because I’m inhabiting this flesh bag right now, doesn’t mean I have to stoop to your less than notable fashion sense.”

Dipper shook his head, returning to his laptop. “Whatever you say, man.”

He had hoped that by blatantly ignoring Bill the guy would take the message and buzz off, but he was already beginning to suspect that Bill was making a fast habit of annoying him for pleasure. Bill rolled forward until he was close enough to rest his chin on the desk, staring at Dipper with a wide blue eye. It was clear he didn’t intend on leaving.

_Okay, what’s the best way to deal with nuisances like him? Continue ignoring him? Confrontation?_

Bill exhaled heavily without warning. Dipper twisted his lips.  _Confrontation, it is._

“What do you want, Bill?”

“Some stimulation for all these senses, kid,” Bill said, slamming his hands on the desk. Dipper straightened up in surprise. “You are soboring. Seriously, you get time off and you spend it writing a dumb book. When’s the last time you spent your leisure time on leisure, hmm? C’moon, let’s go out and dosomething!”

“Bill, I have to have this ready in time for my publishers. Do you even know what it’s like to have responsibilities?”

Bill’s smile hardened. “You have no idea, Pine Tree. I also know that if you leave right now, that file will be there when you get back.”

“Or I could keep working and get done that much faster. Crazy idea, right?”

“Your body is dying as we speak. And so’s mine! You should save the boring stuff for later. Tell you what, I know lots of interesting things around here; things within a few miles, no less. Things you haven’t even seen.”

Despite himself, Dipper’s attention was caught. He glanced up at Bill’s smiling face, sensing the challenge. “Try me.”

Bill leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on the desk. “There’s a spring of fairies located just around the—”

“Right, near that cave on Lake Gravity Falls. Mabel and I stumbled over them when we were fourteen.” Dipper smirked. “Their queen’s a nice lady. Knows some good songs.”

Bill’s grin fell. He straightened up in his chair. “Alright, whatever. Not like the gals are very well hidden anyway. How about a coven of vampires—?”

“Mabel dated the coven leader for a few weeks. He had a horrible temper, but he could bake a killer fudge cake.”

“There’s a mirror embedded in a tree—”

“Seen it, already added it to the journal.”

“A herd of centaurs—”

“They tried kidnapping Pacifica when she was sixteen. We had to team up with a pack of werewolves to get them back. And yes, I know about the werewolves, too. They’re not nearly as in shape as the media would have you believe.”

Now, Bill was frustrated, though he made a poor show of hiding it, glaring at his fingernails.  _He doesn’t know how to conceal his emotions_ , Dipper realized. _He wears his heart on his sleeve._

Clearing his throat, Bill continued, “Okay. What about the hydra? You couldn’t possibly have—”

“Except that we totally could, seeing as how one tried to crush the Shack. I don’t even want to mess with those things again.” Dipper leaned back in his chair. “Face it, I know more about this town’s secrets than you thought. So much for ‘always watching’ right?”

Bill scoffed. “That would imply you brats are worth watching all the time.” But he made no other suggestion, instead agitatedly drumming his fingers on the desk. Marking the exchange as a victory in his favor, Dipper returned to his laptop. A loud bang made him jump back. Bill had slammed the desk again, now standing.

“Would you stop doing that—?”

“Perytons.”

“What?”

“ _Perytons_. A whole herd of them. There’s no way you can know about them because they’re miles away from here and they only migrate every ten years.”

“Perytons?” He could vaguely remember their entry in Journal No. 2.  _The Peryton. A half stag, half bird hybrid. Temperamental, but approachable. Migrated from Atlantis. Possesses the shadows of man._ He had never seen one in person. “And you know where they are?”

“Of course, I do. I know lots of things.” Bill’s grin widened. “One of them happens to be the perytons resting ground on the outskirts of your grimy town. You’d better hurry, though. They only ever stay in one place for a few hours before moving on. Our window of opportunity grows smaller with each passing minute.”

Dipper could sense the bait being dangled in front of him, but it was tempting. He hasn’t uncovered any new secrets in Gravity Falls in a long time. He had been beginning to think there hadn’t been anything left to discover. 

“What do you want?”

Bill quirked a brow. “Excuse me?”

“What do you want in exchange for the perytons’ location?” Dipper repeated, rising from his chair. “You wouldn’t give me this information without charge. Don’t think you can trick me again. What do you want?”

Bill’s expression morphed before blanking entirely. Before Dipper could think about it too much, Bill stepped away from the desk. “If you’re good at something, you should never do it for free,” he said. “Charity is for suckers without talent, after all.” He scooped up one of the gnarled walking stick props from Mabel’s old projects. He examined it for a moment, and then turned around, propping himself up with the stick.

“Alright, kid, you want a deal, you’ve got one. I’ll show you the location of the perytons nesting grounds if A, I get to lead the way—”

Dipper scoffed. “Well, that’s just a given.”

“And  _B_ , if …” Bill scanned the room with his one eye, biting his lip in thought. He eyed the safe tucked up against the wall, and smirked. “…if I get to read your journals.”

Dipper froze. Memories of the sock opera washed over him. Bill’s grin widened, and Dipper clenched his fists. “What could you possibly still want with those things?”

“Leisure,” was all he said. For the life of him, Dipper couldn’t determine whether he was telling the truth. Bill popped the walking stick on the ground and sauntered closer to the desk. “That’s my deal, kid. I give you the perytons, you let me peruse your journals. Take it or leave it.”

Now, it was Dipper who drummed his fingers on the desk, thoughts racing a mile a minute.  _Could this have been his plan all along? Get me to open my safe and give him the journals?_ It sounded ridiculous, considering how much Bill has suffered thus far, but would he bet his journals on it?

“You’re only allowed to read them,” he said after a moment. “You can’t destroy them. You can’t alter them in any way or try to hide them, and you have to give them back the minuteyou’re done.”

“Sheesh, kid, paranoid much—”

“Deal?”

Bill rolled his eye, but otherwise held out his hand. “Deal.”

Dipper glared at the hand for a moment before taking it, squeezing it ever so slightly as they shook. Bill whined and squirmed away, thumbing the palm of his hand. Dipper smiled. “I’ll make us some lunch.”

…

After a few minutes of arguing, Dipper managed to convince Bill to change out of that abysmal outfit. It required him to play up the ‘you’ll ruin it if you go out there’ angle, which Dipper wouldn’t have minded because he really had been meaning to burn that thing, but he didn’t want Bill to get heatstroke because being he was an idiot.

As Bill stomped upstairs, grumbling under his breath, Dipper made sandwiches for each of them and packed a few water bottles. He made sure to grab Journal No. 2 from his safe, putting everything into an old backpack. He texted Mabel, informing her of their plan. By the time he was ready, slinging the backpack over his shoulder, she had responded.

_have fun! don’t let Bill near any poisonous fruit!_

When Bill returned downstairs, wearing a white shirt and jeans and a surly expression, they set out. The shadows of the forest loomed over them both, and Dipper was struck by a trill of uncertainty.

Bill pressed on ahead, not seeming to notice his hesitation.  _Don’t be ridiculous_ , he told himself sternly.  _You know this forest better than anyone, even Bill._ Readjusting his backpack straps, he caught up with Bill. They both were silent.

A half an hour rolled by, which slowly turned into an hour. Dipper struggled internally with himself, wishing he could strike a conversation. He didn’t even know where to begin. Smalltalk had never been his forte.  _God, what can we even talk about? Hey, remember that time you stole my body from me? Hey, you’re not going to try to murder me out here, right? Ol’ buddy ol’ pal?_

He wished Mabel were here. She and Bill seemed to be pretty in tune with each other.

Bill didn’t seem particularly interested in chatting anyway, focused on the trails ahead of him. Even when Dipper had given him his lunch, he didn’t say more than a few words. So, the awkward silence stretched. As the first hour turned into two, he was starting to get irritated. Bill was leading them to a part of the forest Dipper didn’t recognize. His feet were killinghim. 

Almost three hours later, Dipper finally gathered enough moxie to break the outstanding silence. “We’re lost, aren’t we?”

“No,” Bill said too quickly. He paused in the center of a clearing, craning his neck to look around the trees. “I’m just taking the scenic route.”

His suspicions were confirmed. Either Bill really is trying to murder him where no one will find the body, or he just gets a kick out of wasting his time. Both are possibilities.

“Pipe down, Pine Tree,” Bill said, wandering into the brush and out of sight. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t even say anything,”

“I can hear your petulant thoughts from here.” Bill’s voice bounced around the forest. Dipper’s gut clenched.  _Hear my thoughts …? Can he—?_ “And  _no,_ that doesn’t mean I can read your mind.”

Dipper breathed a sigh of relief as Bill trudged back into the clearing, leaves and sticks poking out of his hair. The only consoling fact about all of this was that Bill looked just as, if not more, irritated than Dipper himself.

“Those rotten creatures have to be around here somewhere,” Bill grumbled, shaking out his hair. Dipper plucked a piece of bramble from Bill’s shirt, pursing his lips.

“You don’t know where you’re going.”

“That is a bold face lie, Pine Tree. Slander. That fact that you would even dare—” Dipper crossed his arms, brow quirked. Bill swallowed his next accusation, instead stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Alright, fine. I may not have entirely considered the fact that I’ve only ever been to this forest in the Mindscape. Not exactly a good basis for a map. But I doknow where the bird things are. If I can just figure out where the river is …”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Now entirely convinced that this venture had been nothing but a colossal waste of time, Dipper turned around. “Come on, I think I can find our way back to the Shack from here. We should be able to make it before it gets dark.”

Eventually, he heard dragging feet behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. Bill kept his eye trained to the ground, shoulders slumped. He looked so disappointed that some of Dipper’s previous irritation towards him drained away.  _Am I feeling sorry for Bill Cipher?_  Shaking himself, Dipper returned his attention to the trail, keeping an eye out for any distinctive landmarks.

“Hey,” he called after a beat. “You still have half of your sandwich left, you know. Still want it?” In the week that he’s been here, the only thing that Bill ever got excited over was food. It was a feeble attempt at cheering him up.

However, Bill didn’t answer him. It took Dipper a few moments to realize he could no longer here the sound of shuffling feet. “Bill—?” he started, only to be furiously  _shushed_ and pulled off the trail and into the brush. “Bill—”

“Has the meaning of the word ‘ssssshhhhh’ changed in the last century?”

“Bill, what are you—?”

This time Bill clamped a hand over Dipper’s mouth, much to Dipper’s muffled protest.  _Has he completely lost his—?_ Suddenly, he could hear the distant, soothing sound of a babbling brook. His heart skipped a few beats and he stopped struggling.

Seeming to sense his revelation, Bill released Dipper and continued carving his way through the bramble, making no attempt at being stealthy. The idiot was going to scare them away.Dipper tiptoed after him, about to tell him to quiet down, when Bill pulled a large branch aside, revealing the entrance to a small clearing near the bank of the river. Dipper’s tongue curled up in his mouth and his jaw went slack with awe.

“Found them,” Bill said.

Dipper could only nod.

There, lounging at the edge of the bank, rested about seven ( _eight_ , Dipper rectified.  _Eight of them_ ) magnificent half stag half bird hybrids.  _Perytons_. All of them had sloping antlers of different design, along with multi-colored feather wings that seemed to shift color in the sunlight. Crouching down, Dipper pulled off his backpack and took out his journal, opening to the peryton’s pitifully small entry.  _Can … change … color of wings,_ he scribbled, his hands shaking madly.

“I can’t believe you managed to find them,” Dipper whispered, unable to keep the reverence out of his tone. He glanced up at Bill, who was smugly admiring his fingernails.

“Honestly, Pine Tree, you should know better than to doubt me. You wanted some bird freaks, I give you some bird freaks.”

Dipper chuckled, giddy. “Yeah, no kidding.” He wanted to continue, maybe apologize for acting like a jerk, but the words wouldn’t come. Bill looked down at him and their gazes locked. Dipper swallowed, and the smile slowly left Bill’s face. Bill cleared his throat and tore his eye away, crossing his arms.

“Well, go on, Pine Tree, we’re not getting any younger,” he said, leaning back against the mossy tree. “You can make it up to me later with your dingy journals. And spaghetti for dinner.” Dipper twisted his lips. “What? It was tasty.”

“Right, right.” Dipper returned to his journal, fighting back a wave of emotion. After asking Bill to keep an eye on the backpack, Dipper crept into the clearing, trying to make himself look as small as possible. The perytons didn’t seem to notice or care about his presence.

 Bill lurked in the shadowy edge of the clearing. Dipper continued creeping closer and closer to the herd, pausing whenever one of them moved or glanced in his direction. By the time he was a foot away from the bank, the largest peryton trained his eyes to him.  _The alpha_ , Dipper figured. He scribbled another quick note in the journal. Suddenly, one of the creatures made a loud humming noise. They all started rising to their feet.

“Pine Tree,” Bill warned.

“It’s fine, Bill,” he said, flipping to the next blank page. “The Journal says they’re passive unless provoked.” Still, he took a few cautious steps back. 

After a few minutes passed without incident, Dipper continued his descent. The water reached up to his ankles, soaking his sneakers. The perytons paid him no mind, even as he gently ran his fingers across their wings. 

“Pine Tree.” Dipper glanced over at Bill, who had stepped out of the brush. His was twisting the hem of his shirt in agitation. “I swear, Pine Tree, if you’re not careful, I’m  _not_  going to be the one to explain to Shooting Star what happened.”

“Oh, relax,Bill, it’s perfectly fine. Come on, see for yourself.”

Bill bit his lip, looking no less calm. When he opened his mouth to retort, however, one of the creatures screamed. Dipper clapped his hands over his ears. Something else answered the scream. A low growl emanated from the dark forest. Fear crawled up Dipper’s spine.

The perytons unfurled their wings, taking flight. The bloodcurdling growl from the forest grew louder. Dipper’s heart raced, sweat dripping down his forehead. A dark, massive shape bounded out of the forest, straight towards him. Vicious teeth. A long snout. Ten fingers and two legs. Five of them. Head of a wolf. Body of a man.

“ _DIPPER.”_

He snapped awake. He threw himself out of the way, landing with a  _chru-unch!_ on the bank. It was through sheer dumb luck that he could dodge the hulking beast. _Journal No. 2, page 18, Rougarus. Vicious temperament. Travels in packs. Carnivorous. Enjoys violence. Do not engage._

An ungodly shriek filled the air and Dipper realized that the beasts hadn’t been after him after all. The alpha peryton had stayed behind to cover its herd’s escape. He watched in horror as the monsters sunk their teeth into its leg, its neck, its stomach, ripping it apart. Blood splattered the bank, staining the once clear water. Its cry rang in Dipper’s ears, pinning him to the ground as he quaked with fear.

A pair of hands heaved his trembling body to its feet, pushing him towards the forest. “ _Run_ , you idiot,” Bill said.

Dipper didn’t need to be told twice. Ears ringing, he broke through the bramble and ran blindly. The shrieking peryton followed him deep into the forest and beyond the canopy. A wolf howled.

_They’re going to eat it. God, what if they had gone after me instead?_

He kept running. Branches whipped his face and his feet felt sore and bloody. After some time, he reached a recognizable part of the forest. With no feeling left in his legs, he stumbled to his knees. His stomach churned, and he had to bite back bile as it rose in his throat.

He sat there, trying to control his breathing. They must not have been chasing him as there’s no way he could have outrun them. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he forced himself to take deep breaths.  _In, out. In … out …_

Soon, he could breathe normally again. _Alive. We’re alive … we, we’re …_

Bill.

He wasn’t there.

Dipper lurched to wobbly feet, scanning the forest around him. There was nothing except for him and the silence of the forest.

Running back the way he came, Dipper tried to retrace his steps, trying to think of anything other than Bill, weak and scrawny, trapped in that clearing with those horrible monsters. His eyes watered up, blinding him as he stumbled forward. 

He couldn’t remember how they had gotten there. He doubted he could even hear the river in his state. He didn’t dare wander too deep into unfamiliar territory lest he get lost.  _What are you going to do when you find them anyway? You’ll just get ripped apart. You should go back to the Shack and get one of Stan’s guns._

_I can’t just leave him—!_

_You already did. And you’re less than useless if you go back now. If he’s still—_

Dipper blocked the voice out, his stomach knotting with dread and guilt and shame. Turning around, Dipper jumped onto the nearest trail he could find and didn’t stop running

…

By the time he got back to the Mystery Shack, the late afternoon shadows were creeping over the expanse of the yard, the sky painted bloody reds and oranges. When he saw the twins’ shared Honda parked in the driveway, he almost collapsed with relief.

“Mabel,” he said, throat sore. He took a moment to regain his breath, forcing himself to climb up the steps of the back porch. When he threw the door open, he tried again. “ _Mabel._ ”

His sister poked her head through the kitchen doorway. “Dipper?”

He reached out, and she rushed forward to catch him as he nearly collapsed to the ground. He buried his face into her shoulder and she wrapped her arms around him. “Bill. It’s Bill.”

“Breathe, bro-bro.” He gasped and she tightened her grip. “Take your time. It’s okay, Dipper, you’re okay.”

Once he trusted himself to talk, he explained the days’ events, from Bill making him a deal to the discovery of the perytons and the attack. Gulping, he pulled away from his sister. “He’s still back there, Mabel. Stan kept his guns in the basement, right?”

“Yeah, a few hunting rifles and some pistols. I’ll load them up, you go find some flashlights. It’ll get dark soon.”

Mabel had almost disappeared into the hallway before Dipper recovered from his surprise. “MMabel, you can’t go out there—”

Mabel turned around, eyes blazing. Dipper stepped back. “Do you honestly think I'm going to let you go out there alone? There's a murderous pack of wolves. Like hellyou're going without me.”

She turned the corner and left without another word. Dipper recoiled, before shaking himself and heading for his office where he kept the spare flashlights. 

When he went outside, Mabel had a rifle slung over her shoulder and was in the middle of reloading a handgun. Her hands were completely steady as she worked, while Dipper had barely been able to change the batteries in the flashlight. She looked up when he closed the door and held out the handgun.

His hands wouldn’t stop trembling, no matter how much he tried to force himself to calm down. Mabel placed a hand on his wrist. “It’s going to be okay, Dipper.”

“I left him,” he said, ashamed. “He stayed behind, helped me up, and I left him. It’s my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Your instincts made you get out of there. There’s nothing else you could have done.”

“I didn’t even look—”

“Dipper, we can worry about guilt after we find Bill. We need to go now.”

Dipper swallowed. “Right. You’re right. Let’s go.” They advanced towards the darkening forest, flicking on their flashlights and beginning their search.

Day fell. Dipper clung to his flashlight, glancing back every few seconds to make sure Mabel, her rifle at the ready, was still with him. Whenever he heard the rustling of leaves or some unidentified animal’s screech, he would tense up and hold up his gun, pointing it into the darkness. It was only Mabel’s steadying presence beside him that kept him grounded.

The forest, once so inviting and familiar, now felt like a realm of nightmares. Bill was trapped somewhere inside.

“Mabel,” he whispered at some point. “Do you think if Bill … if his body is … what do you think happens to the rest of him?”

Mabel didn’t answer. A part of him didn’t want a reply anyway.  _He’s fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s probably back at the Shack right now and wondering where the hell we went._

“Hey,” Mabel said. “Do you hear that?”

He heard it a second later. It was the sound of rushing water.  _We’re close to the river_. “I think I recognize this trail. Follow me.” He tore through the bramble, Mabel trailing a few feet behind him. He continued down the path, trying to recognize something.

That was when they found the first rougaru corpse. Mabel saw it first, gasping and training her rifle towards it. Dipper realized it first. “Mabel, it’s okay. It’s dead.” Hesitating, Mabel slowly lowered the gun, scrutinizing the body.

“What do you think killed it?”

“I don’t know. C’mon, I think we’re getting close.”

Finally, they discovered the bank of the river. Dipper found the abandoned backpack and spotted his journal, alongside about several rougaru scattered around the forest floor. All of them were dead. The peryton’s body was an unrecognizable lump of flesh on the bank’s edge. He heard Mabel gasp beside him, but it fell on deaf ears. All his attention was focused on the dark body lying in the river, unmoving.

“Bill,” Dipper said, rushing down the bank and into the water. He set down the handgun on the bank. Bill’s face was pale. His chest rose and fell laboriously. His shirt was decorated with several lacerations, and his right shoulder looked dislocated. When Dipper placed his hand behind his neck and lifted his upper body out of the water, he felt something hot and sticky. Blood decorated the rock below Bill’s head.

“Bill? Bill, can you hear me?” A quiet groan answered him. “Bill, I need you to try and stay awake for me, alright?” Bill’s eyes slowly blinked open, glaring at him with a pained gaze.

“Twist my arm a little more, why don’t you?”

Dipper smiled, only to stare in horror as Bill turned and vomited into the river. He shook furiously in Dipper’s arms, and Dipper could only hug him closer.

“He might have a concussion.” Mabel stood in the center of the clearing, holding his backpack and journal. She pulled out her phone. “No service.”

“It can take an entire day for a rescue team to get out here anyway,” Dipper said. “We can retrace our steps.” Bill started whimpering. “It’s okay, Bill, everything’s going to be fine. We’re going to get you to the hospital, okay? I need you stay with me, Bill. Just stay awake for a little bit longer.” Bill could only nod, his face drained of color and stark in the face of Dipper’s flashlight. Placing one hand on his back and wrapping another under his knees, he lifted Bill out of the water, crumbling when he heard a soft whine. He rejoined Mabel in the clearing. She picked up his handgun, flipping on the safety before tucking it into the backpack.

“It’s going to take at least another hour to get back to the Shack. Do you think he’s … do you think he’ll make it?”

“Yes,” Dipper said with far more confidence than he felt. Mabel tightened her lips before she trained her gaze to one of the many corpses that surrounded them.

“Dipper.” Her expression was glaringly white. “None of these corpses have blood on them. I can’t even smell it. It’s like they all just dropped dead.”

Dipper looked at the bodies. Mabel was right. There were no dark clumps on their fur, and there was no metallic taste in the air. He furrowed his brow, staring at the marred body in his arms.

“We’ll worry about it later,” he said, heading towards the trail, trying to walk as steadily as possible. He could feel Mabel return to his side, and they began their descent back to the Mystery Shack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some exciting news, everybody! The Defining Bill Cipher tumblr page is officially up and running! Follow it [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/) for updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments.
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).)
> 
> Thoughts? Questions? Concerns? Leave a message!
> 
> Stay fresh!


	5. Bill Cipher, the Weak and Powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A hospitalized Bill Cipher reflects on the limits of his mortal form.

Florescent lights passed by like shooting stars, blinding Bill with their intensity. The scent of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol assailed him and he grew queasy.

A crowd of hands lifted him onto a table and pain bolted through him. A mob of unfamiliar people hovered over him, their voices muffled under surgical masks. They sliced his shirt off and he cried out as scabs were reopened.

They placed a damp rag on his forehead, doing little to soothe his nauseating, pounding headache. One of them grabbed his left arm and held it out, wiping the underside of his forearm. He flinched at the sharp sting of a needle, trying to yank his arm away. A gloved finger gently tugged on his left eyelid. His heart jumped.

The eyepatch. It’s gone.

He squirmed away from the probing hands, gritting his teeth as pain flared in his shoulder. A sluggish warmth began creeping up his arm. _They’re going to kill me. Please, Mabel, please help me, Dipper, where are you …_

One of the doctors placed a steadying hand on his uninjured shoulder and spoke. AThe voice was nothing but a distant ringing. The warmth was slithering in his blood like a worm, numbing his limbs until he could barely control them.

When it hit him in the head, Bill succumbed to deep relaxation. The pain, once excruciating, had clouded to a background hum. The surgeons began working.

“…suturing the deepest wounds first … at least a hundred and twenty … Make sure to keep him from going under …” The words melted out of his mind.

They stitched up his chest though he could only feel a light plucking sensation. He didn’t know how long he was there.

After the surgeons finished, they set his right shoulder with a dull  _crunch_. He watched them with vague fascination, marveling at human durability.

The world started moving again. The doctors changed him out of his grimy clothes before outfitting him with a blue hospital gown. They gave him a bulky brace on his shoulder. The next thing he knew, they had wheeled him up to his own room, where it was mercifully silent.

The doctor arrived.

“Good evening, Mr. Pines,” she said. “My name is Dr. Hunter. Your family’s downstairs in the waiting room. Visiting hours are over, so we can only let them in here for about ten minutes. I can bring them up now if you’d like.”

 _Mr. Pines? My family?_ Something in his expression must have satisfied her, for she nodded and walked towards the door. A few minutes later, she returned with an exhausted Mabel and Dipper in tow.

“Bill,” Mabel said, relieved. She was holding a blue, glittering bag in her hands. Next to her, Dipper coughed, nudging her shoulder. “Aaah, my brother,” she said hastily, glancing at Dr. Hunter. “Heh, Bill is just a, um, a nickname. Like, uh, dollar _bill_ , you know?” The doctor displayed no visible reaction beyond a quirked brow. Mabel laughed nervously. “His real name is super embarrassing, so we just call him that instead. Just, uh, good ol’ Bill.”

Dipper stepped around his sister and approached the bed. His face was colorless. “How’re you feeling?”

 _Words. How did I do the word thing?_ His tongue felt like a fuzzy carpet in his mouth. 

“You were pretty banged up, man,” he continued when Bill failed to respond. “I was … we weren’t …”

Bill swallowed a huge chunk of saliva and moistened his chapped lips. “Pine Tree, now that I think about it,” he said, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. Dipper leaned in closer. “Pain really isn’t all that funny.”

A slow smile lit up Dipper’s face. “No, it really isn’t.”

Bill smirked though it was more of a half-crooked twitch of the mouth. Mabel approached the bedside, taking a seat to Bill’s left. He had to roll his entire head to the side to see her, vision swimming in and out of focus. "Hey, Star. ’M sorry I lost your eyepatch.”

Mabel blinked, recoiling with surprise. “What?”

“ _Eyepatch_ ,” he repeated, reaching up to touch his face. Mabel stared at him for another moment before her face flushed with indignation.

“You think that I care about the eyepatch? You could have gotten killed out there. I’m just happy that you’re okay.”

“Hey, I think we’re missing the important thing here,” Dipper said, smiling. “Bill just apologized without even being asked. Either the world is ending, or maybe that concussion actually did some good.”

Bill chuckled. “My head’s all scrambled up, kid, I’m clearly not thinking straight.” His laughter cut off with a sigh of pain. Amusement hurts _._ “Don’t expect it to happen again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

At the front of the room, the doctor cleared her throat. “Like I was saying, Mr. Pines is expected to make a full recovery,” she said. “There were a few concerns, though. Regarding his left eye—”

“He was born with that,” Mabel said hastily. Dr. Hunter looked up from her file, brow quirked. “It’s a rare corneal disease.”

 

Dr. Hunter shrugged and moved on. “We’re going to have to keep him overnight for evaluation, but he should be set to go home at the end of the business day tomorrow. That’s all for now.” Closing her files, she approached the door. “I’ll be back in about ten or so minutes.”

After she left the room, Bill lolled his head to the side, staring up at Dipper. “‘Mr. Pines?’”

“Uh, yeah, about that.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “See, because you don’t exist in the eyes of the government, you don’t really have any insurance. So, we kind of had to fib a little on your registration form.”

“You filled in your own information? Isn’t that fraud?”

“It was my idea,” Mabel said, smiling. “So, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone here that your name is Bill. Also, if anyone asks, you were attacked by a grizzly bear.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Okay, okay, enough chitchat, it's present time.” Mabel reached down to her side, holding up the mysterious bag. “Now, I know it’s not my best work, we were kinda in a time crunch when we picked up a few things from home.” She held out a folded piece of purple cardboard paper. The front proclaimed  _Get Well Soon_ , written in beautiful calligraphy. Trimmed, golden ruffles decorated the edge.

“Yeah, Star,” he mumbled. “It looks … awful.”

She smiled, placing the card on his bed. “And this,” she continued, pulling out a small, plush platypus, “is Ser Jimsworth. He’s been my loyal companion for many years, and I trust he’ll supply you with the sufficient snuggles to help you sleep tonight.” She brought the animal to her face, holding out its stubby little arms. “Hi, Bill,” she said in a comically deep voice. Its googly eyes jiggled. “Let’s be friends. Hey, what did one twin say to the other twin?”

“Uuh,” Bill glanced at Dipper, who sighed and shook his head at his sibling. “Something about journals and bad mystery novels, right?” he finished, looking back at Mabel.

“ _No_ , silly. There’s not enough womb in here.” A huge smile broke out on her face. But Bill continued staring, blinking drearily.  _Well, that’s not something Pine Tree would say at all._  “There’s not enough  _womb_ in here.” She lowered the platypus. “See, it’s funny because—”

“Mabel, I told you he wasn’t going to laugh at that,” said Dipper. Mabel huffed, plopping the plush in the crook of Bill’s shoulder. “You need to have a joke that involves misery. Like, um, Bill, how do you get a baby to stop crying?”

“Umm …”  _Rip out its vocal chords. Bury it. Uh, uh, smother it in peanut butter and give it to a hungry dog._ His stomach started growling, flooding him with a fresh wave of nausea.  _Uugh, I’m starving._  “Put it in the oven and bake it?”

“I was going to say, ‘hit it with a brick’ but that works, too.”

Bill thought about it for a moment, before chuckling softly. “Yeah, that’s pretty funny.”

Dipper smirked. “I rest my case."

Mabel rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Then, she held out the blue gift bag towards him over Bill’s body. “C’mon, you have to give him your present too.”

“What?” Dipper straightened up, leaning away from the bag as if it were a venomous insect. “Mabel, it’s fine, you can give it to him.”

“Bro-bro, it was really sweet. You should do it.”

“No, it’s weird—”

“You’re makingit weird.”

Dipper groaned, seizing the bag and rooting around the tissue paper. He pulled out a small book. “I mean, you can’t really read this right now because you’re concussed, but I really like this book, and I figured that you would like mysteries too, so whenever you get better …” he trailed off awkwardly.

Bill didn’t know quite what to say, not used to receiving gifts. “If I wasn’t nauseous before, I definitelyam now. Thanks for that, kid, it’s not like I’m suffering enough anyway.”

“Shut up and take the book, Bill,” Dipper said, putting it on the nightstand. His tiny smile was back in place.

Just then, Dr. Hunter opened the door. “Time’s up, I’m afraid.”

“Just five more minutes, doc?” Mabel said. The doctor pursued her lips, shaking her head. Mabel sighed but rose from her chair. “That’s alright. Bill needs to get some sleep anyway. We’ll pick you up after the Shack closes tomorrow, alright?”

“What? You mean I’m going to be trapped in this room for that long?”

“’Fraid so,” said Dipper, standing up as well.

Bill furrowed his brow, refusal bubbling on his lips.  _How do you even expect me to sleep tonight? No. Take me back._ But the twins were already walking towards the door. Dipper glanced over his shoulder, and Bill was struck by a twinge of desperation. By the time he could fully process the thought, the twins had left, and Bill was alone. A strange sort of ache twisted his chest.  _No. Come back. Take me home. Don’t … don’t go._ The itching sensation appeared behind his eyes again, and when he reached up, he felt something wet.

“Is it alright if I ask you a few questions, Mr. Pines?”

Bill roused, looking up at Dr. Hunter. She was politely staring at her files. He quickly dragged his arm across his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Hit me.”

“Good. Do you know where you are?”

“A, um,” Bill sniffled, “a hospital?”

“Can you be a little more specific?”

“A hospital near Gravity Falls?”

“Excellent. Do you know what day of the week is it?”

“Uh, what time is it?”

The doctor checked her watch. “3:24 AM.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to focus. “Umm, then it’s Monday, right?”

“Correct. Do you feel any diz—?”

“Whoa, hey, what’s with this interrogation, doc?”

She looked up from her file, smiling tiredly. “It’s standard protocol, especially for head trauma patients. Memory problems are a common symptom of a concussion.”

“Memory problems?”

“Yes. You might experience some disorientation, confusion, fuzzy or almost absent memories, or nausea. The effects are usually temporary, however, so you shouldn’t wor—”

But Bill had already tuned her out, settling back against his pillow. Something close to existential dread seeped through his mind as her words sunk in.  _Fuzzy or almost absent memories. That shouldn’t be a problem for me. I’m a demon. My memories can’t be tampered with. So why do I feel so anxious?_

The answer came to him a moment later.

_I don’t remember how I got here._

The entire block of time from the first assault to being placed in this hospital bed was nothing but a murky blur of pain and shock. The more he thought about it, the more blank spaces he discovered in his memory. He couldn’t remember what color shirt Dipper had been wearing yesterday. He couldn’t remember what he had had for breakfast.

And it went back further than that. Beyond the time he’s been human. Memories that stretched back for thousands of years, once crystal clear, were now drenched in a fog of distant shapes, colors, and sounds. His earliest memory was a black hole in his mind.

“ _Do you even remember the conversation we had last night? About your dissonance?_ ”

“ _We didn’t talk about that last night … demons have perfect memories …_ ”

_Except that I’m not a demon anymore._

In his haste to land himself a human body to flee the Mindscape, Bill had completely overlooked a critical element of the transition. Human memories are imperfect.

_My memories are going to rot away._

…

Dr. Hunter eventually left. The hospital room was quiet, the sound of his own heartbeat as his only company.

In an attempt at distraction, he tried to remember more of his pre-human days, seeking desperately for an untampered memory. It ended up being a futile effort. If anything, the more he tried to remember, the faster the memories would slip through his fingers. He soon gave up.

So, he rested. When the nurses brought him an early breakfast of soup, potatoes, and yogurt, he curled his upper lip.  _Is my body being weird again or is this food just genuinely gross?_ He ate it without a word, though, both to get the nurses out of his face and to satisfy the queasiness in his stomach. They left him alone after that.

The strange ache in his chest lingered. He figured it was just the stitches acting up. But during his short time being a human, he had become rather familiar with the different types of pain. This wasn’t the dull ache of lacerations. It was more of an emptiness.

The feeling became worse whenever his thoughts looped back to the twins, or to the Shack. He tried not to think about them, but he didn’t get very far. Every memory he had of being human featured those three objects in some way. So, he floated in a depressed limbo, trying not to remember anything and failing.

Finally, at around 5 o’clock, the twins returned. He almost broke down at the sight of them, the itching sensation welling up under his eyes. He managed to keep it together.  _These drugs are really doing a number on me. I need to get out of here. Fast._

The twins insisted that he had to get in a wheelchair to leave. “It’s hospital regulation, Bill,” Mabel said. “They aren’t going to let you leave here unless you’re in a wheelchair. Besides, you’re still hopped up on drugs. I don’t think you could even walk straight right now.”

“I can walk just fine,” Bill said, burning to get out of that tiny room. “Besides, I can just lean on Pine Tree when I get a bit wobbly.”

“I’m not a walking stick, Bill,” Dipper said. “The sooner you get in the wheelchair, the sooner we can leave. That’s the deal.”

Bill sucked his teeth. Eventually, he conceded. They had brought him a brand-new button-up shirt and a pair of sweatpants, which Dipper helped change him into as Mabel politely left the room.

Bill insisted on putting on his own pants, which Dipper looked away. They removed the brace long enough to get him into his shirt. Bill removed the gown, revealing the gashed-up nightmare that was his chest, and Dipper’s face paled.  _I could really do without your drama, Pine Tree,_ he would have said. Instead, he bit his cheek and stared at nothing as Dipper buttoned up his shirt, ignoring the look in the kid’s eyes.

And then he was being wheeled outside. He had never tasted anything sweeter than the air of that afternoon. He idly traced the tattoos on his wrist as Mabel pushed him into the parking lot, the blue Honda mercifully parked near the front. As Mabel opened the backseat door, Dipper helped him up to his feet. Bill grabbed his arm with one hand, holding back a groan as he hoisted himself to his feet.

“Okay, Bill,” said Mabel, holding open the door. “Just hop in and we can take you back.”

He tightened his hand on Dipper’s arm, wanting curl up somewhere and fall asleep. Mabel shared a concerned look with her brother. Dipper touched Bill’s shoulder.

“C’mon, Bill, don’t you want to go back to the Shack?” he asked, trying to gently pry Bill off his arm. But the firmer he got, the tighter Bill squeezed, far too comfortable and too tired to move.

“Uh, Dipper, maybe you should get in the back with him?”

“What?”

Mabel stared at her brother imploringly. Dipper held back a sigh but otherwise moved to slide into the backseat. Bill sat in the middle, watching groggily as Dipper buckled the seatbelt across his lap before closing the door behind him and fixing his own seatbelt. Once Mabel returned the wheelchair to the hospital, she got into the front seat and then they were driving home.

The world swam in and out of focus as Bill struggled to keep conscious. His head would nod, and he found himself jerking upright every few minutes. And his eyelids were so heavy. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment where he started dreaming, but he roused just a fraction when he heard a small voice whisper in his ear, “Mabel.”

Something shifted, and he heard a soft giggle. “Is he asleep? Dipper, take a picture.”

“No. You don’t need another picture of Bill sleeping on me.”

“Ssshh _,_ don’t wake him up. Give the guy a break.”

“He’s drooling on me…”

The conversation seemed to be over.  _Well, I’ve certainly seen stranger dreams in the past._ He shifted, trying to get more comfortable before finally sinking into a light, flitting sleep.

…

When they got back to the Shack, Mabel insisted that both she and Dipper help Bill up the stairs to his room. Bill protested for the sake of stubbornness, but with the morphine from the hospital beginning to wear off and the pain starting to creep in, the protest didn’t last long. With their combined help, he soon was lying in the attic bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“Call us if you need anything,” said Mabel as she placed Dipper’s book and Ser Jimsworth on his nightstand. “We’ll bring you up something to eat later. I bet the hospital food sucked.”

He became nauseous at the thought. Chewing his lip, he nodded, eyes still trained on the ceiling. And then he was alone again, the twins leaving the door slightly ajar in the event he called for them. Bill sighed, torn between calling the twins back to his side to distract him, and his desire to be alone. 

_The human thought process is so counterproductive. It goes sideways, backward, in circles, any direction but forward. How am I supposed to plan for anything like this?_

About two hours later, the twins returned. Dipper held a food tray with a bowl of fruit and a glass of water and sat down on the bed, Mabel just behind up.

“Boop-be-doop, we got some fruit.” She held out the bowl, wiggling it. “You’re probably still feeling wonked out after getting drugged and the doctors said to eat light for a little while. We’ve got watermelon, pineapple, raspberries, strawberries, apples…”

Bill’s attention trailed off as he shifted his gaze to Dipper. “Spaghetti?”

Dipper chuckled. “Sorry, Bill. Pasta is too heavy. It’d mess up your stomach.” Bill twisted his lips. “You’ll get your spaghetti soon, I promise. By the end of the week, even.”

 _I’m holding you to that, Pine Tree._ Figuring it would be the best answer he could get, Bill straightened up and eagerly took the fruit salad. Ignoring the fork, he happily ate the colorful mushy food bits with one hand, reveling in the freshness.  _Much, much better than the hospital_.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Mabel sang, reaching into her pocket. “I have another gift for you.”

 “If you’re trying to get me to do something, random knickknacks aren’t the way to go, you know. I accept my payment in ritualistic sacrifices.”

Mabel frowned, sharing a look with her brother. Dipper stood up, staring down at him with a confused gaze. Bill shrunk down.

“We’re not trying to get you to do anything for us, Bill.”

“Yeah,” said Mabel. “We just … well, we’re just really grateful is all, you know?”

“About what?”

“About  _you_ , that’s what. The fact that you’re okay, the fact that you saved Dipper. You could have turned tail and run, but you stayed. You stayed and almost died _._ ”

“Oh.” Bill stared down at the fruit bowl. Memories of the attack came back to him, effectively ruining his appetite. “Don’t mention it. I barely even remember it, okay? One sec Pine Tree was being his usual dorky self, the next my body is moving without permission. End of story. Besides,” he stuffed an apple slice in his mouth, despite it tasting like paste, “it just makes us even.”

“Even?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah. If you guys hadn’t pulled me out of the Mindscape, I’d be dead by now. So, we’re even. Don’t bring it up,” he mumbled, grabbing the cup and taking a long drink of water. They fell into silence, the twins shifting nervously. Mabel’s concern was etched onto her face whilst Dipper’s expression was peculiarly blank.

And then Dipper asked, “How did you survive? The rougarus.” A shadow crossed over his face. “We thought you were dead. It was at least an hour and when we did you were …”

Bill lowered the water. “What?”

“Well, you were surrounded by their corpses. We couldn’t make sense of it.”

Bill stared at his reflection in the murky water. His one blue eye stared back, haggard and dim. When he thought back to the time on the river bank, he could only recall raw, powerful feelings. Fear. Pain.Actual images were washed out and bloody. It only made him sicker, but he couldn’t stop the onslaught.

Bill glanced at him, and then he sighed. “Like I said, I don’t remember much. I had pushed Pine Tree out of the way, one of the brutes grabbed my arm and shook me around. The next thing I knew they were all on top of me and then it felt like I had cracked my head open and …” He trailed off as the barest shadow of a memory brushed the edge of his mind. Dipper crouched down until he was level with Bill, a familiar, curious gleam lighting his eyes.

“What happened?”

Bill licked his lips, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I think I had a dream. I was staring down at myself, I think. But everything was different. It was gray.”

“You were in the Mindscape,” Dipper whispered. Bill’s body stiffened.

“That’s not—”

“No, it makes sense,” Dipper said quickly, starting to get excited. “You could force things to fall asleep when you were still a demon. They wouldn’t even know they were asleep. You must have dragged all the rougarus in with you and killedthem there—”

“No _,_ ” Bill said. Pain sang along his chest, and he curled up, groaning. “You’re wrong, okay? That isn’t possible. I’m human now, I shouldn’t have access to the Mindscape anymore.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

Bill glanced up at Dipper through oily blonde hair. Dipper stared back, his brown eyes trying to pry the truth free. Mabel touched her brother’s arm.

“That’s enough,” she said softly, moving towards the door. “We’ll leave you alone now, Bill. Get some rest.”

Dipper left first, shoulders slumped and stuffing his hands back in his pockets. After he rounded the corner and disappeared, Mabel held out a piece of fabric to Bill.

“Your gift,” she explained with a sad smile. It was a new eyepatch. Triangular, with a yellow core and black edges. “Sorry it isn’t more elaborate. I wanted it to be ready when you got back.”

Bill took the garb, running the pads of his thumbs around it and appraising every angle. Instead of speaking, he positioned it around his left eye, snapping the string into place. It curved over his eye securely. He didn’t even realize how used he had gotten to wearing the thing until it was gone.

Mabel smiled. “It looks great. Give it a test run before deciding anything, I could always make another one if it doesn’t work for you. And remember, call us if you need us.” Without waiting for thanks, she left.

A tiny warmth surged in his chest, the same place where the aching emptiness had been in that hospital bed.  _Loneliness,_  he realized with a jolt.  _That’s what I was feeling._ The thought was smothered by a wave of nausea and he clenched his hair with a fist.  _Brats. Both of them._ He fell onto the bed, Dipper’s book poking his back underneath the pillow.

…

As time moved on, Bill found it more and more difficult to suppress his bubbling anxiety. It crept over his skin like a swarm of cockroaches. 

 _The universe can’t cut me a break. I barely figure out how this whole sleeping thing works before it hits with a whole slew of new problems. Then again, I suppose I should be grateful it gave me any time to brace myself at all._   

He dwelled on the many issues that had cropped up in the last twenty-four hours.  _One. Human brains are imperfect. Considering those memories have no connection to emotion or scents or anything_   _that human brains cling to, they’re eventually going to be beyond my reach. Two. I might still have some feeble connection to the Mindscape._   _I got out of there for a reason, if I’m still connected somehow …_  The anxiety became worse at the thought, and he quickly smothered it to prevent his panic from consuming him.  _Calm. Stay calm. Worry about it later. Tackle one problem at a time._

Mabel came up only once to take away the food tray and give him a dinner of a granola bar and an apple juice box, but he was otherwise left alone. Which, he found, he was beginning to hate. He hatedbeing lonely, feeling like he could rot in this room for eternity and no one would care. He wanted to call the twins to his side, to talk or something, but at the same time, the intensity of these reactions was starting to frighten him and he was too stubborn to submit.

_And three; these brats might be becoming more than just a means for food and shelter._

So, after considering his options, he finally decided which would be the best problem to obsess and panic over: his memory problems.

Granted, he knew that he wasn’t going to simply forget everything. Human brains weren’t thatinefficient. But remembering only ten percent of his thousands of years of existence was small comfort. He wrought his mind for a solution.  _Humans can be smart, at times. They’re always thinking up ways to make up for their inherent flaws. Like water bottles. And pig insulin._

He brooded for most of the evening and well into the morning. While now familiar with the experience of exhaustion, he still didn’t enjoy the sensation, especially when it was coupled with the pain of suture surgery. 

 _Meanwhile, Pine Tree’s probably fast asleep._ He grounded his teeth.  _Pine Tree. Thinking he’s so_   _smart with his precious journals. He’s probably built a shrine for those things. I have several millennia worth of knowledge, which is leaking out of my head as we speak, but you don’t see him worshipping me like that._

Bill rolled over on his side, the book poking his head from underneath the pillow.  _He’s probably read those poor excuses for field guides a million times. Doesn’t he know they’re riddled with errors? But still, he goes on and memorizes every line and coffee stain, not even caring that … memor-memorized—_

The solution hit him like a sack of bricks.

Of course.

_I could make my own journals._

He sat up, angering the mauling wounds. Doing his best to ignore the pain, he stood up and approached the boxes that littered the attic.  _I could write down everything I’ve ever known. Even if I forget it later, even if I forget everything, I’ll at least have_ _something to fall back on._

Tearing through the boxes proved to be a strenuous feat, especially since most of them were taped up. Giving up with the boxes, he moved on to the desk, tearing through the drawers. At first, he found nothing but old school projects and discarded crafts, but in the last drawer, he found an unused notebook.  _Perfect_. _A little less grandiose than I would like, but beggars can’t be choosers. I’ll have to get more, though, and soon._

 He saw the journals a moment later, lying on the edge of the desk. The number 3 encased in a golden hand stared up at him. _Pine Tree’s journals. But, he keeps them locked up in a safe. Why are they—?_

_“I’ll take you to the perytons if … if I get to read your journals.”_

_“Deal.”_

He opened the journal to the first page, recognizing the elegant scrawl, alongside Dipper’s scrappy add-ons.  _Kid keeps his word. I’ll give him that much_. He sighed, surging with emotions that he just didn’t feel like dealing with right now.  _I don’t need these._

He sat down in the chair, setting the journals aside, and opened the blank notebook to the first page. He wrote until his hand sang with pain.

…

Later that night, Bill quietly poked his head inside Dipper’s bedroom, the door creaking open. Nothing happened.  _Ah, good. He’s asleep._ He shouldered the rest of the door open, the journals tucked against his chest. He tiptoed his way across the floor, grateful for the tacky carpets to stifle his footfalls.

The darkness, however, proved to be a far more formidable enemy than creaking floorboards. As he reached the center of the room, he stubbed his pinky toe on the dresser with a sickening  _crack!_ His eyes watered, and he reeled away in agony, hopping on his uninjured foot and biting his lip so hard he left teeth marks.  _Don’t scream don’t scream DON’T SCR—_

“ _FUCK!_ ”

He might as well have had fired a gun. A beat later, something flipped on the nightstand lamp, blinding him with a burst of light. Dipper was staring up at him with wide, sleepy eyes.

“Bill?” He leaned over, checking the digital clock, and groaned. “It’s three in the morning, what are you doing here?”

“I—uh.” Bill hadn’t planned on getting caught and fished for some excuse that didn’t make him sound  _completely_ pathetic. “I just, um, wanted to return these dingy journals of yours.”

“What? Did you read them that fast? You know you shouldn’t be reading—”

“ _No_ , you idiot.” Bill swallowed, gingerly putting his foot back on the floor. “I just, well, I didn’t really want them in the first place.”

“But you said—”

“I was just messing with you, okay?” Bill said. “You wanted a deal, I made a deal. So, whatever, just take your stupid books back. They’re worthlessly incomplete anyway.”

Dipper continued to stare at him, blinking drearily. He covered his eyes with his hand, falling back into his pillow. “I’m a jerk.”

Bill shuffled his feet nervously when he didn’t continue. “Well, nobody’s arguing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Dipper chuckled, a smile tugging his lips.

“Just put them on the nightstand.” Bill did as told and lingered at the edge of the bed. Dipper pulled his fingers apart, staring back with one eye. Bill straightened up but didn’t move to leave. “Do you always wear your eyepatch to sleep?”

“What? Oh, that’s just because, well, Shooting Star said that people would freak out if they saw my blank eye, and, and I didn’t know if that extended to  _you_ , so I guess I didn’t want to take any chances.”

“So, you were worried about freaking me out?”

“Not  _worried_ , per say, I don’t  _worry_ about things like puny, delicate feelings. But your overreactions can be inconvenient.”

“Gotcha.” Dipper sighed, covering his eyes again. “You don’t need to wear the eyepatch around us, Bill. Come on.” And then Dipper surprised him by shifting to the other side of the bed towards the wall. “Well?”

Bill blinked, but removed the eyepatch and clambered into the sheets, positioning himself so he rested on his uninjured shoulder. He pulled the blankets up to his chin, still unable to believe his stroke of good fortune in a line of miserable days. Gently, Dipper reached over him and flipped off the light. He then curled up as close to the wall as he could, no part of his body touching Bill’s.

The two of them didn’t speak and Bill could pinpoint the exact moment Dipper fell asleep. His breathing became heavy and slow. When that happened, Bill squirmed and wiggled until he could feel Dipper’s back press against his own.  _That’s better._ He closed his eyes and breathed out, for once feeling safe and secure, before drifting off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	6. Bill Cipher, the Sore Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heated family game night sparks stubborn competitiveness between Dipper and Bill.

Bill winced as he gently patted the wounds on his chest with a sponge. Warm water from the shower head pelted his back and he held back another curse. Pain was a pain.

Rinsing off the last of the soap, Bill turned off the shower and pulled back the curtain, shivering when the cold air hit his skin.  _Yeah, nerve endings are overrated._ Stepping out of the tub, he stood in front of the mirror, his blank eye staring at him as he assessed the slash marks running down his chest. They had turned bright pink with fresh scabs after a week of healing. It cut right through the binding mark centered over his heart, rendering it ineffective.

He gently ran his thumb along the jagged edges, sighing.  _Guess I made a good call with ordering more than one. Paranoia really is a demon’s best friend. Now I just need to avoid something that wants to cut off my feet, wrists, upper arms, and the back of my neck, and I’ll be perfectly okay. Shouldn’t be too hard._

Yanking a towel off the rack, he dried himself before buttoning up his pajamas. Massaging his shoulder, he opened the door when he heard a celebratory ‘ _whoop!_ _’._ It sounded like Mabel.

Exiting the bathroom, he found the twins in the living room, with Mabel on the floor and Dipper on the couch. Each had a joystick controller in their hands and were playing a video game.

“Eat my taillights, Dipper. That gold trophy is mine.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sis.”

“I may as well, I’m already ahead of you.”

It was some kind of racing game. Bill watched from a distance as they squirmed and leaned and pivoted as if moving in real life would somehow influence their virtual driving. They were approaching the finish line, and Mabel kicked out her legs and squealed.

“I shall finally bring an end to your reign of terror.”

Dipper smirked. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

A huge explosion engulfed half of the screen, blowing one of the virtual karts to bits. Mabel shrieked as Dipper’s kart rolled into first place and across the finish line. The television sang a triumphant jingle. “You blue rocketed me. How couldyou, Dipper?”

“Sorry, Mabel. All’s fair in love and war. And go-kart racing.” Dipper noticed Bill standing in the hallway. “Hey, man, what’s up? How’re you feeling?”

Bill squirmed, looking away and crossing his arms. “Are you going to ask that every time you see me, Pine Tree? It’s been over a week, you don’t need to treat me like an invalid.”

Dipper held up his hands. Mabel threw her head back and groaned.

“I was soclose to winning.”

“So, Pine Tree got a little lucky,” Bill said, sauntering into the living room. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Bill, you don’t understand,” Mabel said. “This is, like, the sixth time in a row he’s won at Mercutio Kart. I can’t handle much more of this dejection.”

Bill pursed his lips, sensing an opportunity to push some buttons. “Star, you’re seriously slacking here. If this keeps up, the kid might start thinking he’s good at something. Allow me to put him in his place.”

Dipper huffed as Bill took a seat next to him. “Right, you’ll ‘put me in my place’. I bet you’ve never even played this before.”

“If humans designed it, it can’t be that complicated. Now, where’s my controller?”

“Uuh.” The twins shared a look with each other. Mabel scratched her head with her controller. “We really only have two joysticks.One of us will just have to use the tablet controller.”

“You mean that brick mini screen with the awful motion control?” Dipper said. “I’m pretty sure it’s still in its box in the attic.”

“Well, one of us is going to have to get it and use it. Unless you want to give the guy with a  _busted shoulder_  the  _motion_  control tablet?”

Dipper furrowed his brow. Then, he smiled, setting the joystick on Bill’s knee. “You know what; you’re right. In fact,  _I’ll_  use the tablet,” he said, rising to his feet. “The two of you could use the handicap.”

“You're on,” Mabel said.

Bill laughed. “You’re cute, kid, I’ll give you that much. Consider your challenge accepted.”

Dipper returned with the brick tablet and after Bill received a quick set of instructions from Mabel, the game was on. Bill quickly found that he had underestimated the complexity of pushing buttons. If he wasn't running into walls, he was being booted off the track by other karts. His frustration mounted each time he slipped on an orange slice on the road.  _Humans do this for_ _fun?_   _And I thought_ _I_   _was a masochist._

It was only made worse when Dipper scored first place yet again. “And he secures the seventh win in a row. The crowd goes wild,  _aaaahhh…!_ ”

Mabel grunted, pressing her forehead against the controller in defeat. Bill rolled his eye and clucked his tongue.

“So, you can make pixels do things, Pine Tree, it’s not thatimpressive.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t hear you from last place. Honestly, I think I lapped you twice. So much for ‘putting me in my place’ right?”

An embarrassing heat warmed Bill’s face.  _Alright, Pine Tree, you asked for it._ “I was just dipping my toes in the water, getting a feel for things. I’m ready to play for real this time. Now quit wagging your tongue and start the next match.”

Dipper did as requested. Bill kept a close eye on both sibling’s screens, not bothering to play the game. When they were on the final lap and approaching the finish line, Mabel inching up on Dipper’s taillights, Bill leaped into action. Plucking up a throw pillow, he shoved it into Dipper’s face.

“What the—”

“It’s all you, Shooting Star,” Bill said, holding the pillow in place. 

Dipper pushed him off, but, in his distraction, his kart slipped off the track. He could only watch as Mabel slid into first and crossed the finish line. Confetti exploded on her corner of the screen, and she jumped up to her feet.

“What an amazing turn of events, folks.” She danced with her controller as Dipper shook Bill off and moved to counterattack. Bill curled up on his side of the loveseat.

“You wouldn’t hurt a guy with a wrecked shoulder, would you?” He batted his eyelashes, unable to suppress his cocky grin. Dipper snorted and began rubbing the pillow over Bill’s face.

“Cheater,” he said as Bill squirmed underneath him, before tossing the throw pillow aside.

“What? My arm had a spasm. You can’t possiblyblame me for that.”

“Uh, uh, ‘all’s fair in love in war, sis’,” Mabel said in a crude imitation of her brother.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Those were your exact words, Pine Tree.” Bill poked Dipper’s thigh. “You should be more careful about what you say, you know. People can interpret things in a lot of different ways.”

“Hoorah for creative interpretations.” Mabel held out her palm for a high five, which Bill met. “So, you guys wanna play again? I’m feeling really good about this next race.”

“Nah.” Dipper set his tablet controller down on the coffee table. “That one was going to be my last race anyway. I’m kind of Mercutio Karted out.”

Mabel’s face crumbled. “Aw, but Bill just got here. He barely got a chance to play.”

“That’s okay, Star. Video games that don’t have my face on it in some way or another bore me anyway. You know the folks here in Gravity Falls made an arcade game about me once,” he said, wiggling his eyebrow. Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Mabel tapped her lip. “We have board games. And some card decks. I could go and get them from the attic. _Y_ ou know what we should do, is have a famil—”

“ _No_ _, no_ , no, and  _no_.” Dipper stood up, waving his hands in protest. “We are  _not_ going to have another family game night. The last one ended with us having to contact an out of town warlock to get our roof back.”

“Oh, Dipper, you know it won’t be like last time.”

“Yeah, well, the last time you said that I ended up getting sucked into a television by a weirdo wearing a hood. Remember? You had to spin a chance wheel that had a bunch of horrible stuff happen to me.”

“You’re exaggerating. Yeah, the stuff was pretty bad, but I wouldn’t say it was  _horrible_.”

“Face it, Mabel. Every family game night we’ve ended with some crazy supernatural thing attacking us.”

“Not that anyone asked,” Bill said, “but I’d like to play some games. You wouldn’t really say no to a guy who had just barely survived a wolf-man attack, would you, Pine Tree?”

Dipper glared at him, resolve wavering. “And just how long are you going to play the ‘injured’ card?”

“For as long as you keep getting suckered by it.” Bill laughed. “Besides, we all know the real reason you don’t want to play. You’re just scared of losing again.”

“Losing?” Dipper’s eyebrows rose with astonishment. “What? To you?I could beat you in my sleep. While riding a bicycle. And studying for my history exam.”

Bill bit his lip to smother his broadening grin. “Prove it, Pine Tree.”

“Yeah, ‘Pine Tree’, prove it. Game night, game night,” Mabel began chanting, which Bill quickly joined. “ _Game night, game night, game night_ —”

“Chanting ‘game night’ over and over isn’t going to make me want to—”

“ _GAME NIGHT, GAME NIGHT, GAME NIGHT_ —”

He threw his hands up. “ _Fine_ , whatever, I’ll do the stupid game night, but if we get trapped in another enchanted board game, I’m blaming you guys.”

“Great.” Mabel clapped her hands. “Come on, I’ll need some help getting the games down. Wait here, Bill, we’ll be right back.”

The twins returned with an assortment of games ranging from special card decks to jigsaw puzzles. Dipper settled on the floor to Bill’s left while Mabel took a seat on the couch. 

“Now, everyone gets to choose one game,” she said, “and whoever wins the most games by the end of the night, wins.”

“So, what kind of prize will I get for winning?” Bill asked, sifting through the pile of games. “I mean, other than your humiliation, Pine Tree.”

“Yuk it up, Bill. You’re only making it worse for yourself because  _I’m_ going to win.”

“Oh, just hurry up and make your picks.” Mabel held up a tall box with a picture of a wooden block tower on the front. “Mabel’s my name and  _Jamzo’s_ my game.”

“Hmm.” Dipper bit his pinky nail as he browsed his choices. After a moment, he picked up an unopened box of cards. “I didn’t even know we had a Master Edition of  _World of Quiz Rush._ ”

“A triviagame, Pine Tree? Pssh. I’m starting to think that you wantme to win.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

“See anything you like, Bill?” Mabel asked.

Bill scanned the selection, trying to determine on appearances alone if he’d be any good at the game. “Umm, how about this one?” he asked, picking up a board game with a sharply dressed mogul on the front.  _Own It All,_ the box said. “Oh, I know this game.”

“Landlord?” Dipper asked incredulously. “That game can take weeks to finish.”

“If Bill wants to play it, we’ll play it,” Mabel said firmly. “Besides, if it takes too long, we’ll just pack it up and move on. Let’s give it … three hours? Three hours.”

“Alright, I guess. Come on, I’ll set up the bank.”

Bill handed over the box. Mabel called dibs on the little doggy game piece while Dipper chose the tack. After much deliberation, Bill went with the top hat. The cards were distributed, the board set, and they began to play.

The game was over in forty-five minutes. Dipper and Mabel sat in shocked silence as Bill took the last of their money, rubbing it gleefully between his fingers. Mabel stared sightlessly at the table while Dipper massaged the bridge of his nose.

“I feel mentally violated.”

“I gave him all my properties,” Mabel whispered. “Why would I do that?”

“It was a good idea at the time, wasn’t it, Star?” Bill grabbed all his fake paper money and threw it into the air. He fell onto the floor and rolled around as the wads of cash fluttered around him. “I see why humans do this when— Ow,  _ow_.” He scrambled back up, clutching his arm. “Ah, okay, it hurts to gloat.”

Dipper started scooping up the befallen bits of money. “So, one win for you, Bill. Whatever, no need to be a bad sport about it.”

“Oh,  _I’m_ the bad sport, Pine Tree?” Bill then continued in a high, squeaky voice, “‘ _And he secures the win, the crowd goes wild, aaahh!_ ’”

“I don’tsound like that—”

“Children, children.” Mabel clapped her hands to get their attention. “Enough of that, let’s set up the next game. Dipper, where’s your trivia thing?”

After they cleaned up Landlord, Dipper handed out small, plastic buzzers to each of them. 

When Bill took his own buzzer, he said, “Honestly, Pine Tree, I’m feeling a little bit guilty over here. It’s like taking candy from a baby, I’m not too sure I’m—”

“Just play the game, Bill.”

The trivia questions included subjects that ranged from chemistry to pop culture. An hour later found Mabel disqualified and Dipper and Bill neck and neck in points. Mabel held up the small lightning round cards while the two competitors were bent over the table.

“Give up now, Pine Tree,” Bill said, his hand hovering over his buzzer.  _I can’t believe I only have one point on him. Kid’s just full of surprises lately._

“Not a chance, Bill.” 

Mabel cleared her throat.

“Ladies and gentleman, what a stunning turn of events. These next five questions will determine this year’s  _Quiz Rush_ champion. It’s all or nothing, folks. Question number 1,” she plucked up the first card, “What was the first novel ever written on a typewriter?”

Dipper hit his buzzer. Bill hit his own a half a second later and he cursed under his breath. 

“The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.”

“Correct.” She threw the card aside. “Which is the world's smallest flightless bird?”

Once again, Bill hit the buzzer a second too late.

"Kiwi.”

“Correct. Which organ in the human body is the most commonly transplanted from one human to another?”

Bill smacked the buzzer so hard it almost slipped off the table. “Kidney.”

“Yes. What are the primary ingredients in glass?”

Bill snatched Dipper’s buzzer and threw it to the other side of the room. Dipper leaped to grab it just as Bill smashed his own buzzer. “Silico—” Without warning, Dipper slapped his hand over Bill’s mouth.

“Silicon dioxide, silicon, and sand,” he finished, keeping his hand clamped on Bill’s face even as Bill grappled to pry it off. Suddenly, Dipper squealed and yanked his hand away, wiping it on his shirt. “Did you just  _lick_ me?”

“It was a desperate situation, I did what I had to— Wha—  _hey, STOP—_ ” Dipper grabbed Bill’s left hand and dragged his tongue across his palm. Bill dropped to the ground and kicked at Dipper’s chest. “Disqualify this player for rough housing.”

“Only you disqualify  _him_ for being a rotten cheater.”

“It was body spasms.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.”

“SAY THAT TO MY FACE—”

“BOYS _._ ”

Mabel had stood up, her hands placed firmly on her hips. “Do  _not_  make me get the spray bottle.”

Bill climbed back up while Dipper went to grab his buzzer. With a huff, Mabel sat back down and held up the final card in her hand. “So, neither of you get that point, which makes you tied. Whoever answers this last question correctly, wins the game.”

They put their buzzers back in place and assumed their original, rigid positions. Mabel cleared her throat. “Praised for controlling vermin and its ability to kill snakes such as cobras, the domesticated cat represented which God or Goddess in Ancient Egypt?”

Bill could have snorted.  _Child’s play._ He pressed the buzzer, and opened his mouth to give the answer when—

He didn’t know.

Bill’s mouth hung open, but no sound came out.  _I just had it a second ago._ Mabel stared at him, waiting for his answer. _S_ _omething with a B? I just had it! It’s on the tip of my tongue—_

“ _Eeeh,_ time’s up. Dipper,” she turned to her brother, “if you get this question right, the game goes to you.”

“Umm,” Dipper scratched his forehead, not noticing how Bill’s face had paled by several degrees. “Is it Bast? Bast, final answer.”

“ _Ding ding ding!_ ” Reaching down, Mabel picked up her own buzzer and started hitting it wildly.  _Bzzt bzzt bzzt._ “We have a winner. Oh, what a way to end the game, folks. Absolutely shocking. They’ll be talking about this one for the next billion years.”

Dipper laughed, rubbing the back of his neck and relaxing for the first time in over an hour. When he glanced over at Bill, his smile faded away. “Hey, man, are you okay?”

Bill cleared his throat, trying to neutralize his expression as much as possible.  _You’re making good progress on the journals. You’ve already accepted this. Some info is bound to slip. Don’t worry about it right now._  

“Yeah. Sure, whatever. Kudos, Pine Tree. Come on, start the next game already.” The concern didn’t leave Dipper’s face. As a way of distraction, he reached over and picked up Mabel’s choice, shoving it into Dipper’s chest. “Hurry up, kid, I don’t have all night.”

“He makes a good point,” Mabel said. “I’ll set up the first round.”

…

Bill quickly discovered that Jamzo was not his forte. Trying to keep a tower of blocks upright while systematically removing bits of it proved too difficult a challenge. After yanking out a stubborn block located near the bottom, the whole tower came crashing down.

Dipper  _wooww_ ’ed, and Bill did his best not to look up at his stupid, gloating face. “Third time in a row. You are  _really_ bad at this game, Bill.”

“ _Meh meh bleh, bad at this game,_ ” Bill said in the same squeaky voice as before.

“I  _don’t_ sound like that.”

"You’re out of the game, Bill," Mabel said.

“Oh no, what ever shall I do with myself knowing I won’t be the Jamzo champion? It doesn’t even sound like a game. Just a random word a two-year-old would find funny. No, a two-year-old would be offended by it.”

“Oh, hush,” Dipper said.

Bill watched as the siblings continued with their game.   _Don’t let the kid win. He’d hold it over my head for forever._ It appeared that Mabel was about to win, with one loss compared to Dipper’s two. As the tower started wobbling, Bill crossed his fingers under the table.  _Please, please, please._

Fortunately, Dipper failed to successfully remove a middle tier block, and the tower fell.

“In your face, bro-bro,” Mabel said as Bill sighed with relief. “I remain the ultimate champ of Jamzo.”

“Well, clearly a tie breaker’s in order,” said Bill, eager to end this night with his victory.

"Good point,” Mabel said. “We've all won at least once.” She leaned over and scanned the pile of discarded games, grabbing a large box full of card decks. The box was decorated with illustrations of ghosts and skeletons. It was creepy. Bill could have sworn he heard a wolf howl in the distance. “How about this?  _Mighty Myths and Heroes: The Shadow Guard of Paradise_.”

“I’ve never played that before,” Dipper said with a frown. “Where did you get it?”

“Umm. I think I might have bought it at a garage sale a few years ago.”

Dipper groaned, smacking his forehead. “Mabel, that thing is so clearly haunted I’m surprised it isn’t leaking mist or dripping blood or something.”

“It looks like it can be fun.” She opened the box and held it out to Bill. “You get first dibs on the deck, Bill.”

“You don’t know what it’s like behind the TV, Mabel,” Dipper said. “Not fun. I’m not playing another obviously haunted game with you.”

Mabel shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Bill sifted through the five decks, eventually settling on one that had a picture of a shadowy demon with a coat drenched in blood.  _I like this guy's style._  Dipper was still grumbling beside him.

“You know, Pine Tree, you can back out now if you want," he said off-handedly, shuffling his cards. "Nobody would think lesser of you for it.”

“You—” Dipper clenched his fists, and then he rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, leaving the room before Bill could stop him.  _You weren’t supposed to actually leave, kid. I still haven’t beaten you._

He reappeared a moment later, however, sitting back down. Without questioning him, Mabel held out the box and Dipper picked his deck at random. “Better safe than sorry,” he mumbled, thumbing through the cards.

They started once Mabel could unfurl the large instruction pamphlet and determine who went first. “Umm, so it says whoever’s has the Goddesses favor, and by that it means, uh, whoever has Mercury in their fifth house with a rising Moon—”

“Why don’t we just start with the oldest and go counter-clockwise,” Dipper said.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

She set down her first card, and the game began. The instructions only got more difficult from there. Bill wasn’t even entirely surehowsomeone won.  _Something about summoning the Shadow Guard and, uh, casting a spell of light? Ughh._

At some point, he drew a sparkling, shiny card with a picture of the grim reaper. When his turn came around, he tapped his various mana magik cards and placed in the center of the table. “I summon … this thing.”

“Oh, that’s a Magical Monster card,” Mabel noted, tugging the pamphlet closer to her. “ _Magical Monsters; your greatest ally or an ultimate burden,_ ” she read, skimming on ahead. “Minotaur, basilisk, Great Goat of Ganzenia … What’s this guy’s name again?”

Bill was about to answer when a flash of light interrupted him. Darkness crept over the room, blotting out the fluorescent lighting. Then, a black cloud rose up and touched the ceiling, expanding until it formed an ominous silhouette.

“I am Reshogath,” a deep, ominous voice spoke. “I am the Shadow Guardian of the Planes of Eternity, devourer of souls. Who hath—?”

_Click._

The demon paused and the glanced down at Dipper, who was training a cocked revolver at him. “Whoa,  _whoa!_ ” Reshogath held out his hands.

Dipper didn’t waver. “Get back in the card.”

“Calm down there, I’m not supposed to—”

“ _Get back in the card_.”

“Dipper, stop harassing the shadow guy,” Mabel said, not looking up from the pamphlet in her lap.

Bill appraised the demon from top to bottom, his brow quirked.  _Hmm. A demon bound to a card game. A warlock must have done it at some point._ He scoffed. “You’re not actually afraid of that thing, are you?” Bill asked, gesturing at Dipper’s revolver. “What kind of wimpy demon is afraid of guns?”

“Hey man, I didn’t come here to get made fun of by the likes of you.”

“And what  _are_ you doing here?” Dipper asked, the gun still trained to the floating entity.

Reshogath scratched his head. “Uhh. Who summoned me?”

Bill raised his hand. “Over here.”

“Right, right. Well, the rules state that whoever plays my card without first applying the Potion of Sealed Wards, I’m supposed to take their soul to the End Plane.” Bill  _oooh_ ’d with vague interest, flipping through his card deck. “And I keep them there until another player uses a Warden of Highever.” 

“Yeah, well, we went through a lotof trouble to get his soul where it is right now so I'm gonna have to say 'no'.”

“Come on, Pine Tree, it could be fun—”

“ _No_ , Bill. Now, Resho– Roshe— Shadow guard, guy. If you don’t mind.” Dipper motioned towards the center of the table.

“I don’t know, man, I’m reallynot supposed to—” Dipper raised the revolver again, and the demon backed off. “Okay,okay, fine. Sheesh, it’s just a game. Lunatic.” The shadow guardian disappeared. Light returned to the living room. Mabel still hadn’t looked up from her reading.

Dipper placed the revolver on the floor, raking his hand through his hair and grumbling under his breath. 

Mabel threw a card onto the table. “Fafelix _._ I win.”

“What?” Bill took the card and looked at it. “How?”

“Yeah, after someone plays the Shadow Guard card you must play the Queen of Eternity and whoever does, wins! It says so right here.” Mabel started the painstaking effort of pulling the sheet out of her lap and pointed at one of the blocks of text. “See? I’m the champion of Game Night.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Bill tossed his hand onto the table with a sigh. 

The landline phone started ringing.

“I’ll get it.” Mabel stood, scooping up Dipper’s revolver before leaving the room.

“Well, that was something,” Bill said, resting his chin on the table. 

“If only you were here for the Game Night of ’16," said Dipper. "You’d be singing a different tune after that.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I actually had fun.”

"Really?" Dipper glanced over at him.  "Well, that's good to hear. We could do it again sometime if you want." He broke off awkwardly and looked away. “Um, sorry about, uh, licking your hand, by the way.”

Bill snorted, trying to do away with the weird tension. “As you shouldbe. I’ll be carrying those emotional scars forever.”

“Bill, this is the part where you say you’resorry for throwing my buzzer.”

“But, I’m notsorry. To say otherwise would just be a dirty lie.”

“Oh, nowyou’re worried about lying?”

“And what is thatsupposed to mean?”

“Bill, come on, man.”

Bill sucked his teeth. Dipper’s expectant stare didn’t waver, even as he fought down a smirk. 

“It won’t happen again,” he said.

Dipper raised a brow, suspicious, but seemed to accept the answer. Bill would never know for sure, for Mabel came back into the room, her expression panicked.

“Dipper, it’s Mom _._ She’s asking about the medical insurance.”

“What?” Dipper jumped up to his feet running for the phone, mumbling “ _shit, shit, shit_ ”. 

Mabel tugged at her hair in agitation. “Oh boy, Thanksgiving is going to be really awkward this year." She turned to Bill. “Wanna watch a movie?”

Well, it’s not like he cared about Pines family drama, anyway. “Sure. Got any popcorn?”

When Mabel returned with two bowls of popcorn, she started the movie, flipped off the lights, and settled on the floor. Dipper returned about fifteen minutes later, his expression worn.

“Long story short, Mom thinks I was attacked by a bear, but that’s mostly because I told her that. Nothing serious, just a few scratches and bruises. She was, uh,” Dipper sucked his teeth, “ _very_ concerned, but I talked her down from flying up here, at least. And Dad says hi. If anyone asks …”

Mabel nodded, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I’ll keep it in mind next time I have a friendly chat with your parents,” Bill said. “Which should be in about never.”

Dipper rolled his neck and sighed. “Alright, okay. I’m off to bed.”

“What? Why?” Bill said. “The movie just started.”

“I have to get up early tomorrow, Bill. The same goes for you, sis,” he added, pointing at Mabel. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“ _Blehmekargah,_ ” she said through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Yeah, sure.” Dipper turned and headed for the stairs.

Bill watched him go, his interest in the movie diminishing the further he got. He returned his attention to the television and pulled the bowl of popcorn into his lap. He kicked back, putting thoughts of Dipper out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everybody, this next chapter is going to be big, maybe even as big as the Restless. To anyone who was worried that the chapter lengths were taking a nose dip, fear not! As you can imagine, it's going to take a little longer than usual. Thankfully, my internship ends this Friday, so I'll have two whole weeks to dedicate solely to DBC before school starts. 
> 
> I'll keep you posted in the meantime. See you then~
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	7. Bill Cipher, the Backseat Driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An urgent call from an old friend sends the trio on a road trip down south.

Dipper closed the backseat door of the car with his shoulder, plastic grocery bags swinging from his wrists. “So, what ended up happening to that other dream demon anyway?”

Bill grunted as he readjusted the cold jug of milk in his left hand as they walked back to the Mystery Shack. “Well, after the disaster with those journalists, his plan actually ended up working and they founded some secret club. He didn’t bother me much after that. Apparently, watching rich, powerful men dancing around, getting drunk, and pissing on redwoods was exactly what he was going for the whole time. Go figure.”

“Wait.” Dipper paused, pulling Bill to a stop. “You wouldn’t happen to be talking about the Bohemian Club, would you?”

“Was that what it was called? With the owl, right?”

“Yeah _._ ” Dipper’s face lit up. “I always thought it was just some front for a power-hungry cabal.”

“No way, kid, that would bore this guy to tears,” Bill said. Dipper resumed walking and he followed. “He’d much rather see the most powerful men in the world debase themselves in his personal grove.”

“It really is a demon-worshipping cult. I knewsomething had to be up.”

“Most of the members don’t even know about the demon part. He doesn’t really need worship, he’s just entertained by the debauchery.”

Dipper shifted the groceries to one hand and opened the door to the gift shop. A trace few customers were milling about the shop, appraising the new inventory. Mabel sat at the register counter, a glitter pen hanging out of her mouth as she poured over her textbook.

“Any other clubs based on some secret supernatural founder?” Dipper asked after he closed the door.

“There aren’t many, Pine Tree. Most supernatural entities think humans aren’t worth their time. I tried to found one once, but it got away from me pretty fast. Honestly, what kind of name is ‘Free Masons’ anyway? I wanted to call it the Forsworn Fraternity of Providence.”

“ _You_ founded the Free Masons? The ancient, wealthy, secretive organization that’s had some of the most powerful men in history among its membership?”

“It got away from me,” Bill repeated, shrugging. “I wanted it to be based on self-flagellation. But all that self-flagellation made the members really disciplined. After a while, they stopped being afraid of me. They forced me out after a couple of years. Not my best moment.”

Dipper laughed. “I’ll bet.”

“Well, don’t rub it in, kid.” Bill elbowed him in the side, earning another chuckle.

Mabel ‘ _aww_ ’ed. “Look at you two getting all chummy with each other.”

“We’re just running errands,” said Dipper.

“Mmhmm. Did you remember to grab some purple food dye?”

Dipper shuffled through the bags. “I think so. Along with some more cookie dough.”

“Excellent. Put it next to the confetti so I don’t forget.”

“What exactly are you planning on doing?”

“What? It’s a surprise; if I go blabbering about it then it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

“Look, the last time you were planning a surprise involving food dye, we ended up scrubbing the kitchen floor until the sun came up. I thinkI have good cause for concern.”

Bill groaned loudly. “Yes, yes, we getit,” he said, grabbing Dipper’s arm and pulling him towards the _Employees Only_ door. “You’re the overbearing brother, she’s the free spirit, yadda yadda. You two really need to come up with new material.”

Mabel gasped with mock offense. “Rude. My material is flawless _._ ”

“Listen up, Pine Tree,” Bill said, poking Dipper’s shoulder. “If you’re impressed by the stuff with the Free Masons, the thing with the Voynich Manuscript will blow your mind.”

“What do you know about it?”

“The simpler question would be what I  _don’t_ know. Seriously, kid, what kind of question is that? So, it all started with a flyaway paintbrush …”

As Bill was telling his story, he reflected on the past three weeks after the rougaru incident. His wounds had faded into fresh pink scars, and he finally got to ditch that shoulder brace. Showering wasn’t such a nightmare anymore. Although he did find himself sore and achy from time to time, he could say with confidence that he had recovered.

And that wasn’t even the best part. As Dipper became more and more comfortable around him, his innate curiosity started to rear its head. It started with simple questions, like how he was feeling, what was he doing, how much different was it from being a demon, what are some of the craziest things you’ve seen, and so forth. Over time, the conversations became longer and more engaging. The kid was insatiable.

The loneliness of the sterilized hospital room was a distant memory. The Mindscape was silent.  _All in all, life could be worse_ , he thought, placing the plastic bags on the kitchen table. 

“Then she goes ballistic and starts leveling the room with these fire hexes. It’s not like I was in any danger, the magic was so rudimentary. But the whole place came crashing down in a matter of minutes.”

“But why did you let her get her hands on the book in the first place?” Dipper said, leaning towards him attentively. Bill swelled with vanity at the sight. “I mean, I get that hindsight is 20/20, but really, you should have seen that coming.”

“What was I supposed to do, Pine Tree? She was the daughter of the scribe. If I didn’t get her to the palace in one piece there was no way he would keep up his end of th—”

Dipper’s phone began ringing. Bill huffed with impatience as Dipper took it out of his pocket and answered.

“Hello?” His face brightened. “Pacifica?”

 _Northwest?_ Bill cleared his throat. “Hey, kid, I’m in the middle of—”

“One second, Bill.”

Bill tightened his jaw. A peevish idea struck him and he leaned over the counter and snatched the phone out of Dipper’s hand, dashing down the hallway.

“Bill, get back here.”

Bill sniggered, muffling the phone’s ringing against his shirt as he ran into the Mystery Shack museum. He answered the phone, bringing it to his ear.

“Hey, Northwest! How’s the family?”

A small voice answered him. “ _Um, Dipper?_ ”

“No way, toots, I don’t—”

Without warning, Dipper appeared from behind the corner. Before Bill could react, he pinched Bill’s upper arm and Bill shrieked. Dipper snatched the phone from his hand.

“Pacifica?” he asked, out of breath. “Yeah, it’s Dipper. Sorry about that.” And he left Bill squatting in the hallway, continuing his idiotic small talk. “Yeah, everything’s going great … Really? That awesome, I’m glad to hear it.”

Bill sneered.  _Fine. Whatever. He wants to have dumb conversations with dumb humans? Have at it, kid. I can wait._ Rising, he dusted off his shirt and made his way back to the gift shop.

Mabel had discarded her book for the moment and was ringing up a customer. She glanced up when she heard the door open.

“Hey, Bill.” She turned back to the customer and handed a receipt. “Come back soon.” After they left, she turned to Bill. “What are you doing out here? Did you put the food away?”

“I thought that the Northwest girl moved out ages ago.”

Mabel blinked, blindsided. “What? Who? Pacifica? Uhh,” she scratched her chin, “yeah, she left her parents’ house when she turned 18. Dipper said she was living in San Diego.”

_So, he’s been in contact with her since she left?_

Mabel furrowed her brow. “Why? What brought this on?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. I’ve just never seen Pine Tree so excited over a phone call before.”

“Pacifica called?” Mabel said, smiling. “That’s awesome. Oh man, I wonder how her auction house is going. It’s been ages since we’ve talked. Dipper better not think he’s going to hog that phone all to himself.”

She headed for the door and left Bill standing there alone, dumbfounded.

 _Brats. They’re like babies with that attention span._ _Bill sneered and crossed his arms._ _Honestly, it’s just a phone call. Pine Tree will have his little chat and that’ll be the end of it. No need to get so uppity about it, sheesh._

Nodding to himself, he headed towards the kitchen, craving some sugar and milk.  _Pine Tree finally bought me some more of those chocolate cookies. He said I shouldn’t eat all of them, but I feel like I’m due some compensation. Try and stop me, kid,_  he thought with a smirk, retrieving the box from the counter. He took a seat and ripped the box open.

…

The Shack closed a half hour later. In his pursuit of a sugar rush, Bill had burned through the box of cookies and was starting on a bag of sour gummy worms. The phone call was but a small, niggling tick in the back of his mind.  _Just wait till I tell Pine Tree about Dimension 40x_ ** _α_** _, he’ll be eating out of my hand, then._

As if summoned, Dipper appeared in the doorway. Bill looked, slurping up a worm. “Hey, kid.” He held out the bag and shook it a bit. “Want some candy?”

“Umm, no thanks—”

“Too bad.” Bill dropped the bag in his lap and stuffed a wad of sour gummies into his mouth. Dipper’s face tinged green at the sight.

“You’re so gross.”

“Oh, yeah,  _I’m_ the gross one. And when was the last time you did your laundry, Pine Tree?”

“That is entirely beside the point.”

Bill shrugged. With a loud swallow, he patted the table, gesturing towards the other seat. “Get comfortable, kid. Now, where was I? Umm, we were in the courtyard and the scribe’s daughter was going crazy …”

Dipper’s brow furrowed, confusion apparent. He didn’t take a seat. “Right, we can talk about that later; I’m going to be packing for most of the night.”

“Packing? Why? Where are you going?”

“I just got off the phone with Pacifica and—”

“You just stopped talking to her?”  _You’ve_ _got_   _to be kidding me._ He glanced at the clock.  _No, it’s definitely been 32 minutes._

Dipper stared at him, bewildered. “Uhh, well, Mabel talked with her for a few minutes, I guess. It was mostly just the two of us catching up. But then she told me about a problem she was having.”

Bill stuffed another wad of gummy worms in his mouth, angrily chewing instead of answering.

“She said that people on the beach near her house have been going missing,” Dipper continued. “Nobody knows what happened to them and Pacifica thinks it might be something supernatural. She wants us to go down there to check it out.”

“Is that a fact?” The bag was empty. He began licking the sugar off his fingers. “So, she’s going to be there? With us?”

“Yeah.” That brilliant smile returned to his face. Bill forced down a sneer. “Anyway, we were thinking about leaving on Friday. That’ll give us the weekend to investigate.”

“What about the Shack?”

“It’ll be fine if we close it for a few days. And I wanted to make sure you were okay with this.” At that, Bill finally looked up. The sincerity in the kid’s expression helped to settle his nerves. “I know you’ve been feeling better, but it’s going to be a long drive. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

The scars on Bill’s chest started stinging and his right arm felt sore. Despite that, Bill shrugged, tossing the bag aside. “Sure, kid, I can handle it. It’s not like I can say no, can I?”

“Well, you could stay here if you wanted to—”

“ _No._ ” Dipper straightened, eyebrows shooting up. Bill cleared his throat, heat rising to his face. “I mean, uh, it’s fine, kid, seriously, don’t worry about it.”

Dipper stared at him a moment longer, not entirely convinced. Then he sighed. “Right, you still can’t sleep on your own, yet.”

“Yeah, sure, that. So, Friday, huh?” he said, desperate to change the subject. He smiled. “Where’s my suitcase?”

“Hmm.” Dipper scrubbed his jaw. “I think we have a spare in the basement. I’ll bring it up for you. Dinner’s whatever you can scrounge together.” On that note, he left the kitchen, leaving Bill with his empty candy bag. Bill sighed, resting his head on the table and wiping his hand on his jeans.

 _Right. Leave me here while you hang out with that Northwest all weekend. I don’t think so, Pine Tree._ Resentment settled in his stomach like a hardboiled egg.  _Maybe that was just the gummy worms, though._

Standing up on shaking legs, he went to the refrigerator and plucked up a can of ginger ale, trying to forget all about the Northwest girl.

…

That Friday, Bill stood in the front yard at six in the morning. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the stars were half faded in the night sky. His hair was disheveled and he had difficulty keeping his eyes open.

He tossed his luggage in the trunk of the car, pausing as a huge yawn consumed him. Dipper slammed the trunk shut, looking unnaturally perky.

“We’re right on time,” he said, smiling.

Bill openly glared.  _I swear I’m going to kill him._

Mabel appeared at his side, holding two travel mugs. The smell of coffee in the air made Bill salivate. She held one out to him, her expression equally as haggard.

“Here,” she said, holding one out to him. “We’re gonna need it.”

Eager to end his drowsy suffering, he thoughtlessly brought the mug to his lips, only to yank it away when the broiling liquid singed his tongue. He took very careful sips after that.

Dipper patted his shoulder. Bill looked up and found him holding out a small black phone. Bill raised a brow.

“It’s for you,” he said as Bill took it from his hand. “You know. Just in case,”

“Really? I get to keep this?” Dipper nodded. Bill tucked it into his pocket. “Right. I got ya, Pine Tree.”

With a small smile, Dipper patted his shoulder again and went to the driver’s seat. Bill settled in the back seat and soon they were on the road and making their way out of Gravity Falls.

Bill finished off his coffee rather quickly after it had cooled and sprawled out, using his jacket as a headrest. Dipper said that it would take the entire day to get to the Northwest’s beach house and that they would be arriving late that night.  _So, trapped in a car for 12 hours. What to do what to do …_

For a while, he punched away at his shiny new phone. A few seconds of investigation revealed Dipper had already taken the liberty of adding both himself and Mabel as contacts, along with a few emergency numbers. He also found some little games and played them, but quickly became bored. 

The twins were playing music on the radio, taking turns picking songs. Mabel was bobbing her head to the current selection.

“Too much time on my hands,” she sang, snapping her fingers. “Te-te-te-te-te ticking away.”

Bill rubbed his eyelids. At least it wasn’t worse than Pine Tree’s pick.  _Synthesized pop music._ Bill groaned, rolling onto his side and covering his ears.

Even Mabel pitched a protest. “How do you still have this song on your phone? It’s like a millionyears old.”

“Really? It’s not even five years old. You’re going to talk to meabout old music?”

“Hey, my song was classic. It stood the test of time. There’s a difference.”

Dipper didn’t answer for a moment, but then he looked over his shoulder. “Bill, are you okay?”

Bill snorted, straightening up. “I think my ears are bleeding,” he said, holding his head over the center console. “Star, can you either confirm or deny if my ears are bleeding?”

“Hmm.” Mabel took a fistful off his hair and tilted his head to the side. “I think you’re good to go.”

“Guess you’re not a fan of top 40s then, huh?” Dipper said, turning down the music.

“It’s more of a side effect of listening to a trillion years’ worth of music. It all just sort of, I dunno, blends, I guess.”

“Really? Classical music? Rock? Jazz? You don’t like any of that?”

Bill shrugged. The song came to an end and Mabel held the phone out to him.

“Here, see if you can find something you like.”

Bill hummed in thought, taking the phone and flicking through his options. He scrolled, sampling song after song. Occasionally he’d land one either Mabel or Dipper liked, but he continued scrolling much to their disappointment.  _Rock, metal, pop, metal, rap, pop, pop, pop …_

Then, he found one song that had the most curious effect on him. The beat caused the speakers to jolt. He could feel it in his bones. Dipper pulled a face.

The song was a collection of artificial glitches, random noise sampling, and a low bass that shook Bill’s ribcage. Mabel was snapping her fingers to the beat.

“I’ve been listening to your human music for over a millennium,” he shouted over the music, “and it has neversounded like this.”

“Maybe there’s a good reason for that,” Dipper said, wincing. Bill started beating the ceiling of the car with his feet. “Hey, get your grubby feet off of the roof.”

“ _Never._ ” Bill squirmed until he was half falling off the seat. Dipper glanced back at him, expression torn between amusement and annoyance. “Eyes on the road, Pine Tree.”

Dipper rolled his eyes but otherwise did as told, leaving Bill to his weird song.

…

About two hours later, they stopped at a gas station for bathroom breaks and snacks. A weary-looking cashier greeted them. The coffee from earlier took its toll on both Mabel and Bill, and they nearly tripped over each other’s feet as they charged for the bathroom.

Once Bill concluded his business, he returned to the main store, sighing. He hated bladders, he really did.

He joined Dipper in the center aisle, who was browsing through a row of magazines and looked up when he approached.

“Grab something to eat for yourself,” he said, returning to his browsing. “It’s going to be a bit longer until we get lunch and I don’t want you getting hungry.”

“Aw, you concerned about me, Pine Tree?” Bill asked, batting his eyelashes. “Stop it, you’re making me blush.”

“Oh,  _please_. You’re just insufferable when you’re hungry. I’m ensuring that you don’t drive me crazy later because you didn’t get anything to eat.”

Bill sighed, placing a hand over his heart in mock agony. He didn’t leave Dipper’s side, however, scanning the various newspapers and articles. He eyed a tabloid with a declarative headline.  _CALIFORNIAN SENATOR ABDUCTED BY ALIENS!_

“Oh, man,” he said, plucking up the tabloid and flicking through the pages. The articles were even better and he laughed. “Pine Tree, you haveto get this for me.”

Dipper glanced at the front page and crinkled his nose. “Bill, those things are garbage. It’s just made up junk.”

Bill snorted. “That’s what you think.” Dipper narrowed his eyes, leaning towards him.

“What does that mean? Why? What’s in those articles?” He tried peering over Bill’s shoulder, but Bill leaned away.

“Guess you’ll have to buy it if you want to find out.”

Dipper huffed, placing his newspaper back on the rack and moving down the aisle. Bill followed him, bringing up the tabloid and flipping through the pages.  _UFO spotted in Iceland … Bigfoot sighting in Brussels … Oh look, it’s me,_ he thought, reaching an article about the Illuminati.

Mabel rejoined them a moment later with an armload of chips and candies. Dipper groaned.

“Mabel, if you eat that much junk you’re going to get sick.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, it isn’t a—” A sigh. “Look, we’re going to stop in another hour or two for lunch anyway. At least put the candy away.”

“No way. I need all of this stuff, Dipper.”

“Really? You reallyneed three bags of—” Dipper paused to glance at the title “—salty sugar candy balls?”

“Yes. I’m glad we could reach an understanding.”

As the two bickered, the doorbell chimed and a twitchy young man entered the store. Bill glanced his way for a moment before returning to his tabloid.

The young man approached the cashier, who stared at him with a glazed look. He whispered something to the cashier and the cashier shrugged. Then, the young man whipped a gun out from his pocket. “I’m not joking, man. I’ll do it!”

“Oh, shit.” Dipper grabbed Mabel and Bill’s shoulders and pulled them behind a counter, crouching down. Mabel dropped her snacks to the floor and peeked over the food displays.

“Ah, man,” she mumbled. The man started waving the gun around, his face going red. The cashier was staring at him blearily. “He’s got a gun. What do we do?”

“Okay, okay, uh.” Dipper looked around the store. “Alright. Bill, sneak around the corner and position yourself in front of the door. I’ll belly crawl my way over until I’m within arm’s reach of his legs. Mabel, you’ll need to—”

“AAAAAARRRRGGH.”

“Wha– MABEL _._ ”

Mabel charged the robber, tackling him to the ground. He went down and Mabel stood and kicked away the gun before he could react. “Get schooled, son.”

Dipper slapped his forehead, meanwhile, Bill had taken to scooping up Mabel’s felled treats. He approached the counter and dumped them in front of the cashier, along with his tabloid.

The cashier blinked at him. “Will that be cash or credit?”

Bill looked at Dipper for assistance. Still kneading his forehead, Dipper pulled out his wallet and handed over his debit card.

The robber groaned on the floor, resulting in a swift kick to the gut from Mabel. “You’ll stay put if you know what’s good for you.” She scooped up the gun on the other side of the room, dismantling it and throwing it away as Dipper and Bill collected the bags.

“Come back soon,” said the cashier, holding a phone to his ear. “Joe? Yeah. Yeah, it’s Mill’s boy. Again. Please pick him up.”

With the snacks paid for, they left the store and were back on the road.

…

Dark clouds were accumulating on the horizon. Traffic had slowed to a crawl. Bill shoved another handful of chips in his mouth, licking the cheese off his fingers as he kicked back and perused his conspiracy tabloid.  _Live it up, Bill. You’ve earned it._

Mabel gripped the steering wheel, broiling. With a growl, she slammed her forehead into the car’s horn. Another car’s blare answered, and another, and another.

“Mabel, I’m on the phone,” Dipper grumbled from the passenger seat. “All this honking is giving me a headache, too.”

“But it makes me feel better.” As if to make her point, she started to rhythmically beat the horn, screaming obscenities.

“Keep honking the horn, Shooting Star. I’m sure it’ll unjam this traffic eventually.”

“Shut up, Bill.”

“Hey, Mabel,” Dipper said, tucking his phone again. “Pacifica is asking if she could borrow some of the swear words you just invented.”

Mabel sighed, finally easing up on the horn, and slumped in her seat. “I charge two dollars per swear. Eh, I’ll give her the friends and family discount. A dollar 25.”

Dipper chuckled and then returned to his phone call. Bill looked up from his magazine, frowning.

“Yeah, the interstate’s backed up for miles, and with that storm coming up … Yeah … We probably won’t be in until ten at this rate … Really? Well, that’s good to hear, at least … What?” Another laugh. “You did?That’s freaking insane, how did that happen?”

“Pst. Hey. Pine Tree.” Bill waited for Dipper to respond. When he didn’t, he started tugging on his shirt sleeve. “ _Piiine Treeee._ ” He poked him with the corner of the tabloid.

“Bill, I’m on the phone,” Dipper said under his breath.

Bill sighed, returning to his sprawled position and grumbling to himself. Stupid kid.

A clap of thunder rolled across the skies, accompanied by a rousing orchestra of honking. Suddenly, Mabel broke down, yelling.

“I can’t take this anymore.” She straightened up in her seat, craning her neck.

Dipper looked at her, panicked. He mumbled to Pacifica that he’ll call her back. “Mabel, what are you doing?”

“Look, if we get off on that exit, we can jump onto an alternate route and skip all this traffic-y garbage.”

“Are you kidding? It would just take us even longer.”

“Not with ol’ Ginevra Pea Sampson on our side.” She tossed the GPS into her brother’s lap. “We’ll sneak off the highway and she’ll point us to the best alternate direction. No more migraine-inducing traffic. If we go now, we can even beat the rain.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really trust these things,” Dipper said, turning the device in his hands. “Remember that one-time dad tried to take us to Disneyland?”

“Oh, it’s not going to be like that time dad tried to take us to Disneyland,” Mabel said, waving her hand. “Alright, let’s go _._ ”

Dipper still looked unconvinced, but otherwise started pressing icons on the GPS as Mabel bullied her way to the highway exit.

“Trust me, guys. We’ll be at Pacifica’s place before we know it.”

…

Twenty minutes later, it started to pour. Thirty minutes later, Mabel admitted that they were lost.

“I  _t_ old you that Duemertia Avenue was back there.”

“There wasn’t a road back there, Dipper. What did you want me to do, drive off a cliff?”

“There was a road, you just didn’t see it. You have to turn around—”

“Okay, first, the only thing I have to do is breathe, eat, sleep, and make glittery statues, and second, THERE WASN’T A ROAD THERE—”

“Mom, Dad, please stop fighting.”

“Shut up, Bill,” the two shouted in unison.

Bill scoffed, reclining in his seat. “If you guys want to get us even more lost in this storm, by all means. Keep in mind that I’m not sharing any of this food with you and the human body can only go three weeks without eating.”

Dipper sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, gripping the GPS with the other. “We’re never going to make it back to the interstate if we can’t even see what road we’re on.”

“What do you want me to do?” said Mabel. “This rain isn’t letting up. Should we stop somewhere and wait it out?”

“Maybe. It’s better than getting ourselves even more lost,” Dipper mumbled, squinting as he tried to see through the fogged window. “I think something’s coming up.”

Mabel slowed down and Bill pressed himself against the window, the chill biting his cheek. A vague silhouette of a building had formed in the rain. “Seeking shelter from a thunderstorm in a shack in the middle of nowhere? Where no one can hear you scream? I’m sold.”

“It’s just until the storm lets up,” Dipper said. Mabel parked the car on the side of the road. A neon sign cut through the downpour.  _Nadeen’s Knick Knacks._ “I think it’s an antique shop.”

“Great,” Bill said, “we might just find your great uncle here then. On second thought, I don’t want to go anymore.”

Mabel sniggered.

They filed out of the car and charged through the torrential downpour, Bill using his jacket as a shield. A bell chimed as they threw the door open and shuffled in, drenched to the bone. Bill shuddered as the air conditioning swept over him.

“Hello.” An impassive voice greeted them. “Welcome to Nadeem’s Knick Knacks.”

A tall, stern-browed man stood behind the counter, gazing at nothing. His stillness seemed unnatural and his breathing was deliberate and uniform. When Dipper and Mabel approached him, he didn’t react.

“Hey man, are you okay?” Dipper asked.

“Yes,” the man answered.

“Uh, you sure?” Mabel snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“Yes. Please stop doing that.”

Bill snorted.  _He’d recognize that deadeye look anywhere. That’s a thrall._ He kept that tidbit to himself, however. There was no helping the human now. He didn’t need the twins burdened with some misplaced sense of altruism when there was nothing they could do.

Dipper said, “Well, we’re just going to wait out the storm if that’s alright.” A hopeful note entered his tone. “Do you know how to get back to the highway from here?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Bill browsed the store’s wares. Various trinkets littered the shelves and the smell of incense and dust made him dizzy. He recognized a few outer dimensional objects, such as a glowing belt buckle and venomous plants, but he once again kept that to himself. He joined Mabel as she appraised a large, seemingly empty fish tank.

“What is this place?” she said, peeking into the tank. Upon further inspection, Bill found that it wasn’t empty, but filled with a herd of tiny horse-men dressed in Roman cavalry armor. They were marching into a defensive formation. He glanced at the plate in front of the tank.  _Centimetaurs._

“It’s definitely strange,” he said. “Most humans don’t have access to this kind of merch.”

“Aww, they’re kind of cute.” Mabel eased her arm in the tank. “Coochie coo. Hey there, fellas. Aren’t you ju—  _OUCH._ ” One of the centimetaurs stabbed her finger with a spear and she yanked it back out. “My finger’s bleeding. Jerks.”

She stuck her ring finger in her mouth and sucked on it with a surly expression. Bill rolled his eye and left her to her bleeding finger, searching for Dipper somewhere in the store.  _With his luck, he’s probably already sold his soul for a pack of gum … Ah._

He was parked in front of a small, old fashion television, his brow furrowed. At first, Bill thought he was looking at static, but found that that wasn’t quite true.  _In fact, I don’t really know what this is._

“Whatcha watching, Pine Tree?”

“… hmm?” Blinking rapidly, Dipper glanced over at him, looking as if he had just woken up. “Um, nothing, really,” he said, returning his gaze to the TV. The flickering screen washed out his face, making him appear ghostly. “I think this is some kind of art film.”

 _Art film? Try again, kid._ Shrugging, he left Dipper to his ‘art film’ and continued browsing. He lightly touched the various relics, upsetting a trail of dust in the process. Near the very back of the store, he spotted a doorway in the far corner, blocked by strings of colorful beads. The smell of incense had grown stronger. The hair on the back of his neck stood. 

_Okay. Troubling._

He approached the beaded door, parting it. Inside there was a small room, dimly lit by candles. Most of the room was taken up by a clothed table with two wooden chairs on opposite ends. In the chair on the far end of the table sat a sleeping, elderly woman in a colorful hooded cloak.

_Wait. Not sleeping._

Her eyes opened and flipped towards him, surprised. Goosebumps erupted over Bill’s skin as he recognized the tinted eyes of a possessed human.

The surprise faded and a catty smile slunk onto her face.

“My eyes must be playing tricks on me,” she said with a raspy voice, sitting up in her chair, “Could it be? The magnificent Bill Cipher, gracing my doorstep? It is an honor.” She slightly inclined her head.

Bill scoffed, his spine stiff.  _I knew something wasn’t right._

“Finally, some respect around here. You mind repeating that? With a little more feeling this time?”

The demon chuckled. “I’ve only heard rumors of your disappearance, Cipher. How you magnificently ran away with your tail between your legs.” Bill curled his lip but held his tongue. “Tell me, what brings you to my doorstep?”

“I’m more interested in talking about you.” Bill stepped into the room, the beads closing behind him. “What brings a pretty thing like you to a dingy little sideshow like this?”

She stared at him for a moment, gaze flicking between him and the door of beads, before indulging him. “A mistake,” she sighed. “The woman and her idiot husband tried to summon me and botched it. I’m trapped here until further notice. Though it looks like your curse is more troublesome to remove,” she said, eyeing his body from top to bottom.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Bill murmured. “What even are you?”

“I am a demon of fate, Cipher. It is a skill that has proved quite valuable in this plane.” She grinned. “Speaking of.” With a flick of her wrist, a crystal ball appeared out of thin air. “Would you like to know your fortune? For a fee, of course. This body must eat if it’s to sustain me.”

Bill weighed his options. The three of them were trapped in this store until the rain let up, and he would prefer to be on this demon’s good side while on her territory. But the less she knew about his situation the better.

Her gaze flickered to something over his shoulder. “Is that boy yours? A thrall, perhaps? He is quite handsome.”

Bill stiffened. “He’s not important,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking a seat. “Sure, sounds like fun. How much do I owe you?”

Her smile widened and Bill fought the urge to punch her in the face. “$40 for an hour.”

He hissed under his breath, fishing his wallet for his allowance.  _Well, there’s goes that taxidermy deer foal I was saving up for._ He yanked out two twenties and placed them on the table. The demon didn’t move to take the payment. Instead, she brought the crystal ball closer to her face, humming to herself. The candlelight painted a canvas of dark shadows across her face.

Bill struggled to get comfortable in the chair, crossing his legs. The demon mumbled, whispering an occasional comment to herself. Bill tapped his finger impatiently, hoping Dipper had the good sense to get out of her line of sight.

It went on like this for a few minutes, until Bill snapped, “Why don’t you do what I paid you for then, huh?”

With another slight of her hand, the crystal ball vanished. She interlocked her fingers and rested them on her lap. “I shall give you four prophecies. They will not be clear, but neither will they be wrong. Number one," she held up a single finger. "A shattered mirror will bring you bad luck, but you shall free your broken reflection. Number two: You will go seeking in the woods, but will not be sought. Number three: You will see the end of your troubles, but you will not make it out in one piece. Number four: Very soon,” her voice dropped, forcing Bill to lean closer, “those closest to you will flee in anger and fear, and you will be alone”

 _Alone_. Bill thought back to the phone call and his mouth went dry. He shook himself.  _No, that’s ridiculous._ Reclining back in his chair, he snorted. “What, is that it? Can’t say that I’m impressed. No wonder your business is so dead.”

“I prefer to keep the juicy bits to myself,” she said, voice hard. Then she relaxed and her grin widened. “It wouldn’t do to give you  _a_ ll the answers, after all. What fun would that be?”

“Of course, of course. It isn’t because you’re some hack. It never is. I understand. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Bill stood up and made to leave. The demon didn’t say a word, her expression contemplative.

Then,

“She’s still looking for you, you know.”

Bill froze halfway out the door.

She laughed. “But don’t worry. I’m no gossip.”

He swallowed a wad of spit and struggled to keep his tone even. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Her laughter followed him as he left the tiny room, his heart pounding in his chest. He found Mabel parked in front of a ruby-eyed monkey statue.

“Hey, Bill, check out this fella. What do you think—?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Wha—”

“Where’s Pine Tree?”

He found Dipper right where he left him, staring into the small television.

“Pine Tree. Hey? Dipper, you there?”

He snapped his fingers in front of his face. No reaction. He glanced at the television screen and back to Dipper. The kid’s face was completely slack, nothing reflecting in his eyes beyond the static of the television.

 _Great, the idiot went and got himself hypnotized._ Grumbling under his breath, he covered Dipper’s eyes with one hand and wrapped an arm around his neck, bringing him closer to his chest. “Star, let’s go!” He dragged Dipper alongside him as he made his way to the door.

Thankfully, the rain had eased up into a reasonably light downpour.

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, don’t get your panties in a knot.” Mabel hurried behind him, and said to the dead-eyed cashier, “Have a good day.”

“Yes.”

They exited the store and Bill breathed in the humid air. He covered Dipper’s head with his jacket and made his way to the car, wanting to put a thousand miles between him and that shop.

…

Afternoon came and went and the sun was beginning to set over the horizon. The sky was a catastrophic mess of oranges and reds with a dimpling of stars.

Bill was curled up on his side, facing the back seat.  _Still looking for me. She's lying, she has to be._

He sighed, curling up tighter.

Mabel drove quietly while Dipper massaged his head. He glanced over his shoulder to the balled-up human.

“Are you feeling okay, Bill?” he asked, his voice a soft whisper.

“Hmm? Yeah, kid. I’m fine.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position. His entire body felt sore and achy. “Just sick of being trapped in this car is all.”

“I feel ya, buddy,” said Mabel. Her eyes were sagging. “We’ll be back on the highway in a bit.”

“And how much longer until we get to Blondie’s place?”

“3 hours.”

Bill groaned loudly, bumping his head on the windowsill. “Star, you think you can open the window? I think I’m gonna puke.”

Mabel obliged to his request. Wind blasted throughout the car and he hung his head out, hair whipping his face. The fresh air helped to relax him a bit, but it was a small comfort.

Fifteen minutes later, Bill spotted something that could potentially help to distract him. Leaning forward, he whispered to Mabel, “Is that a hitchhiker?”

“What?” Mabel craned her neck until she saw what he was talking about. A man with a backpack was walking along the road a few hundred yards ahead. He was holding his thumb out. “Oh, yeah, I guess he is.”

“We should pick him up.”

“Should we?”

Bill tried to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Definitely. This road is deserted, so who knows when another car will be along. And the next rest station is miles away. He’ll be walking for hours alone at night.”

Mabel hummed in thought, though, to his pleasure, she had begun slowing down. “I guess it couldn’t hurt.”

“Uh, Mabel,” Dipper said, “why are we slowing down?”

“I was thinking we could give that hitchhiker up ahead a lift.”

“What? No, we should just keep driving. What if that guy is a serial killer or something?”

“Oh, Dipper, don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure he’s a perfectly nice fella who just needs a ride.”

“Mabel _—_ ”

But she had already brought the car to a stop about ten feet away from the hitchhiker. He jogged up to them. Mabel rolled down her window, smiling. “Hey, there.”

“Hiya,” he said. “My name’s Chris. Wow, I can’t believe there were any cars on this road.”

“Nice to meet ya, Chris. My name’s Mabel. This is my brother, Dipper, and that’s Bill. Where ya headed?”

“Oh, you can just drop me off the next gas station, if that’s alright. I’ll worry about it from there.”

“Okay. Hop in.”

Bill scooted over to make room as Chrisopened the door and took a seat, putting his backpack on the floor. Bill stared him down but Chris refused to acknowledge him.  _Oh, I know you can see me watching you._

“Hey,” Bill said, his grin wide. Finally, Chris turned to him, smiling timidly.

“Umm, hey. Bill, right?”

“Yup. That’s me. And you’re Chris Smith. Christian Daniels Smith, to be specific.”

Chris’ smile slipped a bit. “Do I know you?”

“No. But I know you.”

“Bill,” Dipper said, turning around. “Um, don’t mind him. He’s just, uh, a mentalist. You know, those people who can tell things about you by your body cues?”

“Oh, really?” Chris relaxed, his pretty smile returning. “That’s cool. How do you do that?”

Bill dug around in his head for memories that weren’t too far gone. “You haven’t spoken to your father in years. You’re too ashamed. When you were ten, you found a rotting body in the woods and were too afraid to tell anyone about it. You had nightmares and the guilt ate you.”

“Wow.” The smile started twitching again. “You can tell all that by looking at me?”

“He’s just that good.” Mabel laughed, trying to sound breezy. It was clear she was beginning to regret listening to Bill. “Really Bill, you’ve probably said enough. No reason to give him a free show, right?”

“Don’t worry about the body,” Bill whispered through the corner of his mouth. “It was a mob killing. He deserved it.”

“Bill,” Dipper said. Bill held up his hands, settling down in his seat and strapping on his seatbelt. Chris had edged as far from Bill as the backseat allowed. Bill couldn’t keep the gloating grin from his face.  _Ah, it feels good to psychologically torment humans again. I’ve missed this._

A few minutes later, Mabel cleared her throat. “So. Chris? What brings you way out here?”

“Oh. Uh, well, I’m just drifting around for the most part, all over America.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’m gonna write a book about it later.”

“That’s cool. Dipper, did you hear that? Writing a memoir of all his adventures? Like you.”

“Well, like I tried to, anyway.”

“What happened, bro?” Chris asked.

Dipper shrugged self-consciously. “Well, nobody really believed me, especiallythe professors. I write young adult fiction now. Much more serviceable.”

“Wait a minute.” Recognition animated Chris’ face. “Are you Dipper  _Pines?_ With the Boring, Oregon series?”

“Yeah,” Dipper said shyly. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Yeah. With those two kids and their grandpa? It’s my nephew’s favorite book series.”

“Wow, that’s …” Dipper coughed, attempting to hide his rising blush. “T-thank you—”

“Don’t you have any snacks in this thing?” Bill asked, having been pilfering through Chris’ backpack.

“Hey.” Chris grabbed it and pulled it back towards him, eyeing Bill with thinly veiled dislike. “You don’t want to do that, man, these snacks would just make you hungrier anyway. Trust me.”

Bill shrugged. “Whatever.” He sat back down in his seat. Dipper was glaring at him over his shoulder, but he only smirked in response.

Night had fallen. There was nothing but darkness and the outline of trees outside of Bill’s window. Then, he heard the unmistakable clinking sound of rain. Mabel groaned, tightening her grip on the steering wheel.

“I can’t do this anymore, bro-bro, I can’t keep driving in this for another 3 hours.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said. “Let’s get back on the highway, then we can start looking for motels. I’ll let Pacifica know.”

“How long have you guys been driving?” Chris asked.

“'Bout, uh,” Mabel closed her eyes to think, “fourteen hours, I think?”

“Ouch. I can relate. One time I was trapped on a train with a bear for eight hours—”

He would have gone on, but at that moment, the car swerved sharply to the left. Mabel screamed, fighting with the wheel to straighten them out. Bill was thrown against the window and Chris jerked in his seat. The rain had grown to a deafening volume.

“Mabel, what are you doing _—?_ _”_ Dipper said.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t see that, Dipper. With the wings? It swooped right in front of us.”

Cursing under his breath, Dipper rolled down the window, the wind roaring, and stuck his head out, looking around. A bolt of lightning illuminated world the around them. Then, he pulled himself back inside, sopping wet and pale with fear.

“Mabel, step on the gas. It won’t follow us if we get to a public place.”

“What is it? What’s following us?”

“You remember when we got caught in that thunderstorm on the lake two summers ago? When Stan had to use that rod—?”

“You mean  _that_ asshole?” Without another word, Mabel sped up the car until they were doing over 90 mph. “I can’t freaking believethis, after everything we did for them—”

“What the hell is going on?” Chris said, voice breaking. Bill glanced over at him, smiling.

“The doctors don’t really know why they do it,” he said softly.

“Huh?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ve been having delusions like this for ages. We think it must have something to do with their cousin passing away a few years ago. They just like to dream.” He chuckled. “It’s really quite adorable, sometimes.”

Chris’ tanned face paled to a chalky white. Bill struggled to keep his expression calm and nonchalant as Mabel tore up the asphalt, dodging the seemingly invisible assaults. With shaking hands, Chris clung to his seat belt. Bill’s veneer almost broke.

The road stretched on forever. Dipper kept the window open, hanging his head out intermittently as Mabel drove, throwing the passengers around in their seats.

And then, the gas station appeared, its lights like a heavenly beacon cutting through the night. They veered and skidded across the wet pavement. Mabel managed to regain control, however, and they swerved, screaming, into the protective light of the gas station.

Nobody moved. They waited. And then, Mabel released a loud breath. “I think we’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said, rolling up his window. He stepped out of the car, peering into the dark. “We should be in the clear. Nice driving there, sis.”

“Aw, you're just saying that.”

Bill glanced over at Chris. His eyes were glazed with horror and he hugged his backpack to his chest. He opened his door and stepped out on trembling legs. “T-thanks for the ride.”

“Don’t mention it,” Dipper said. “And uh, sorry, I mean, I’d explain, but you’re probably better off not knowing all the details.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Chris said softly, his expression a mixture of terror and pity. “I—yeah, s-sorry about your cousin, man.”

Dipper blinked. Before he could ask, Chris had already begun shambling towards the gas station.

Dipper got back in the car, his brow furrowed. Bill’s chest was aching with the pressure of his building laughter, and his shoulders trembled. Dipper glanced back at him.

“Did you say something to him, Bill?”

At the sight of Dipper’s puzzled face, Bill’s hysterias became too much. He fell onto the backseat, laughing until he couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked his eyes.

“You should have seen his face.” He threw his arm over his face, his laughter nothing more than desperate gasps. Dipper rolled his eyes, clearly not willing to indulge him. Once the rain had cleared, Mabel drove them out of the gas station and back onto the road.

…

“I’m hungry.”

Dipper sighed, tinged with annoyance. “We know, Bill. You’ve told us.”

“I’m still hungry.”

“We know,” Mabel said, her voice droopy with exhaustion. “The motel will have something for you.”

“How long until we get to the motel?”

“Not much further. About an hour. Just be patient, we’ll get you something to eat.”

Bill groaned, squirming until he was resting on his stomach. His belly growled and he wished that he had saved that bag of Doritos because he really could use some right now. Oh, woe is that of an impatient soul.

Just then, his hand brushed something wrapped in plastic.  _Oh, that’s right._ Straightening up, he dropped the packet of brownies into his lap and began unwrapping them. 

At the sound of crinkling plastic, Dipper turned around, his eyes narrowed. “Bill, what do you have?”

“Oh? Just something I snatched out of that guy’s pack. They look pretty good, don’t they?”

“Bill.”

“Well too bad, you can’t have them.”

“Bill, you shouldn’t eat food from strangers. You don’t know if there’s anything in it. Brownies, Bill. They're brownies.”

“I know. Maybe they’ll be as good as those cookies Star made the other day.”

Mabel smiled tiredly in the mirror.

“Bill, I’m serious,” Dipper said. “Just throw them out of the window.”

Bill sighed, a brownie already half raised to his mouth. “Okay, Pine Tree, if you insis—” He stuffed it into his mouth. Dipper yelled and climbed into the back seat, wrestling the brownies out of his hands. “Pine Tree, back off—”

“Spit that out, Bill, I’m not kidding.”

He grabbed Bill’s jaw and forced Bill to spit out what he hadn’t already swallowed. Rolling down the window, he threw the remains outside, much to Bill’s lament. Bill wiped the crumbs off his mouth, throwing himself back down on the seat.  _Ugh. They were stale._

“How much did he get?” Mabel asked.

“About half of one, I think.”

“I give him forty minutes before it kicks in.”

“Sounds about right.”

“What are you two conspiring about?”

“Nothing,” they replied. Bill snorted, resting his feet on the windowsill and tucking his arms under his head.

…

It was almost an hour later. The motel was in sight. Dipper was looking down at his phone, smiling occasionally as he exchanged texts with Pacifica. 

> _Sorry we're taking so long. It feels like the universe is trying to make this trip last if possible._

His phone beeped a moment later. 

> _i know exactly what u mean. don’t stress, it's only one night. i’ll call u tomorrow morning, alright?_

Dipper had just sent his responding text, when,

“Guys.”

He sighed. A hand began clumsily tugging on his shirt sleeve.

“ _Guys._ We need to get out of the car, guys.”

Dipper exchanged a look with his sister. Mabel’s lips were twitching. Neither of them said anything.

“ _Guuuuuuys_ ,” Bill said, yanking himself forward until his head rested on the center console. He was breathing heavily, his eyes half closed. “ _Guys_ , I, I’m serious.”

“Okay, Bill,” Mabel said. “We’re getting out of the car.”

Bill sighed. “Okay. That’s good.” He kept one hand loosely clutching Dipper’s sleeve. “I don’t feel good, Pine Tree.”

“We’re almost to the motel, Bill,” Dipper said. “Hang in there.” 

They finally arrived at the motel. Dipper breathed a sigh of relief as it came into view.

While Mabel went inside to purchase their room, Dipper took their luggage out of the trunk. Then, he opened the back door. Bill was curled up on his side.

“Okay, Bill, we’re here. You want to get out now, right?”

Bill didn’t move beyond slightly opening his eye, staring at him. Then, he slowly pushed himself upright and crept forward, clumsily crawling into Dipper’s arms.

“It’s okay, Bill, I’ve got you,” he said, taking Bill’s arms and pulling him over his back like a backpack. Bill’s head lolled onto his shoulder and he continued to mumble to himself. 

Mabel walked out of the office a moment later. She informed him they were on the second floor, and he groaned.  _Figures._ At least Mabel volunteered to carry all the suitcases. Readjusting Bill and taking a deep breath, Dipper climbed the stairs, out of breath by the time he reached the top.

Mabel opened the door dropped their luggage _._ Dipper dumped Bill on the bed closest to the door, where he laid with his arms half raised and his legs dangling off the edge.

“Oh, mattress, my old friend,” said Mabel, jumping onto her own bed. “How I have missed you so. Let us never part again.”

“I’m setting the alarm for 9,” Dipper said, leaning down to remove Bill’s shoes. “Just so you know. We’ll be on the road by 9:30 at the latest.”

Mabel waved in his direction to signal her acknowledgment but didn’t move beyond that. Once Dipper brushed his teeth, changed into a set of pajamas, and covered Bill with the bedsheets, he flicked off the lights.

“Good night, Mabel,” he said as he crawled into bed.

“Night, bro-bro.”

“Nnnniiiiigghhhtttt.”

“Good night to you too, Bill.”

A yawn. “N-n-night, Bill.”

Dipper rolled onto his back, shifting until he got comfortable. His eyes drifted shut and he sank into the mattress. Just as he was on the cusp of sleep, however, a warm hand touched his shoulder.  _Oh, God._

“Sleep.”

Dipper gently pushed the hand away. “No, Bill. Go to sleep.”

“I am sleep.” The hand latched onto him again and Bill pulled himself forward until his head was resting on his chest. “Mmm _._ ”

“No,  _no_ , Bill, you get back over there, I’ve gotten used to sharing a bed with you, but cuddling is not—”

Bill wrapped an arm around him and hugged himself to his side. He seemed to have no intention of letting go. Dipper sighed.

“You know what? Fine. Whatever. I can’t argue with you like this. Goodnight.”

“Mmmm.”

Dipper closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else but the warm body cozied up next to him and how it was kind of nice.

He drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, it's back to school, everybody. While I don't think my work is going to mess up my publishing schedule too much, it's still going to be tight. I'll do my best to spin these out as fast as I can, though.
> 
> In other news, as the DBC tumblr page nears 100 followers (hot damn), I think I'm gonna write something for y'all as a thank you, so, again, the next chapter is gonna be a little delayed. But at least you get another fic out of it! I'll keep you posted. 
> 
> See you guys on the flipside~
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	8. Bill Cipher, the Second Fiddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the twins investigate the beach house mystery, Bill’s acerbity towards Pacifica creates tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Mad props to the editor here, guys. They did a _lot_ for this chapter. I mean, they usually do for every chapter, but their contributions _here_ are just, mmm, magnifique!)

Dipper glanced up at the rearview mirror from his place in the driver’s seat, watching as Bill stuffed another handful of potato chips into his mouth.  _It’s like watching a black hole tear apart a dumpster._

Finishing off the chips, Bill reached for the box of donuts. After a moment of deliberation, he scooped up a chocolate iced donut and took a large bite. Some of the icing had smeared his upper lip. Dipper smirked.

“Hey, Bill. You got a little something …” He gestured to his mouth. Bill glared at him, the outer rim of his eye tinged red. The donut was gone in another two bites and he swallowed, pointedly wiping his lips on his sleeve.

“Shouldn't you be focusing on not getting us into an accident?” he asked, ripping open another bag of chips.

Dipper smirked but couldn’t come up with a witty answer, so he returned his attention to the road. Mabel had rolled down the window and stuck her head out, wagging her tongue in the wind. She took a deep breath and sighed.

“I’ve missed Cali so much. Oregon can get so cold sometimes. And Lake Gravity Falls has nothing on Piedmont’s beaches.”

“You know what Lake Gravity Falls doesn’t have?” Dipper asked. “Traffic. And annoying tourists. And air pollution. Honestly, I can’t wait to get back home.”

Mabel huffed, but refrained from comment, turning her head back outside.

As Dipper navigated the tight corners and crowded streets of San Diego, he couldn’t help the tiny twinge of nostalgia. For all its problems, he did catch himself missing Piedmont from time to time, despite loving Gravity Falls.  _Gravity Falls never had a good pretzel store, though_ , thought a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mabel.  _I wonder if there’s an Auntie Anne May’s nearby. I could use a cinnamon special._

The closer they drew to the beach, the bigger and more wastefully luxurious the houses became. Having never been to Pacifica’s family beach house before, he had to keep an eye out for the street numbers that were printed on the mailboxes.  _4235, 4237, 4239 … did I pass it already? Oh, no, wait, I think that’s it on the corner …right?_

For a moment, he almost kept driving. The beach house was smaller than he expected. Only one story, with glass panes making up half of the walls that faced the ocean, and painted a blinding white. It was still gaudy by most standards, but when considering the spending habits of the Northwest’s, it was borderline humble.  _But we’re here,_  he thought, eyeing Pacifica’s treasured BMW in the sprawling driveway.

Dipper parked the car. “We made it.”

Bill pressed his face against the window, mumbling under his breath. Mabel was clutching her hands together with stars in her eyes.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she said. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to the beach. I can’t even remember the last time I made a sandcastle. And just look at that house, it’s gorgeous. And I can finally work on my tan.” She squealed, and Dipper had to hold up a hand.

“Don’t forget the reason we’re here,” he said. “Pacifica needs us to investigate those disappearances. This isn’t just some vacation.”

“Yes, yes, there will be plenty of time for the investigation.” Mabel dismissed him with a wave. “But you know what else there’s time for? Sandcastle palooza.”

Dipper was about to retort but thought better of it.  _Actually, that sounds like a lot of fun._   _I don’t know if I trust Bill with that much sand, though._  He held up both hands and then moved to open the door. “For now, let’s just focus on the paranormal stuff. Then we’ll have all the time in the world for sandcastle palooza.”

Before they could exit the car, however, Bill latched onto both of their arms and drew them close. “Speaking of paranormal stuff,” he began, “I’m gonna have to ask that you keep anything regarding triangles and demons on the down low during our stay here. Got it?”

Dipper and Mabel’s eyes met, questioning.

Mabel said, “You mean, like, keep it from Pacifica?”

Bill nodded. “Precisely. You’re such a smart cookie, Star, are you sure it’s not you that’s the brains around here?”

“Oh, hush.” Mabel pushed him away in exasperation.

“Bill, I can understand why you’d want to keep it a secret,” Dipper turned around in his seat to face him, “but we’ve known Pacifica for a long time. You can trust her.”

Bill thinned his lips. Then, he tightened his grip on Dipper’s arm. “I’ve known her longer,” he said, “and I know how rumors tend to spread around her.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to—” A slamming sound interrupted him. When he looked up, he saw Pacifica jogging down the driveway, wearing a plain white sundress and sandals. She was waving and Dipper could see her brilliant smile even at this distance. He quickly whispered, “We’ll talk about this later,” before shaking Bill off and exiting the car. Mabel followed him out and immediately threw her arms out, charging up the driveway.

“PACIFICA _._ ”

She barely gave the woman time to brace herself before enveloping her in a bone-crunching hug. Pacifica’s eyes bulged, her collection of colorful necklaces and bracelets clinking in the onslaught.

“Mabel, can’t breathe _.”_

“Oh, and just look at your hair,” Mabel squealed, setting the bedraggled Pacifica down. She ran her fingers through shortened pale blonde locks. “You got it cut. It frames your face perfectly.”

“Aww, thanks. You sure it looks better? I wasn’t sure. I kinda miss having it long like yours.”

“I think it looks pretty good,” Dipper said, drawing up next to them. Pacifica responded with a smile and hug. When she pulled away, she made a noise of disgust.

“I cannot believe you're still wearing these awful shirts,” she mumbled, tugging on the collar of his flannel shirt.

He rolled his eyes, smacking her hand away. “You haven’t changed one bit this year. And for the record, they happen to be comfortable and stylish.”

“You’re not a lumberjack, Dipper. Those shirts are a lie. I’m surprised Manly Dan didn’t give you more crap about them.”

“Yeah, well.” Dipper chewed his lip, trying to think up a witty retort, but just ended up mumbling, “Well, Wendy liked them.”

Both Mabel and Pacifica descended into a fit of giggles and Dipper felt like he was fifteen years old again, for better or worse.  _Some things never change, I guess_.

A small cough broke up the revelry. Dipper turned his head to find Bill standing a few feet away, hands tucked in his pockets and his shoulders hunched.

“Right.” Mabel moved to stand next to him, clapping her hand on his shoulder. “Pacifica, meet Bill. He’s an old friend that’s working with us at the Shack for now.”

“Oh, you must have been the one on the phone.” Pacifica held out her hand, which, after a split second of hesitation, Bill took. “Nice to meet you, Bill.”

They shook once before Bill snatched his hand away, cringing and massaging his palm. “What is it with you people and handshakes …?” he muttered to himself.

“That’s a pretty cool eyepatch you have,” Pacifica continued. Mabel beamed, but Bill didn’t look up from his hand.

“Yeah. My mother was a drunk and when I was five she threw a bottle at my head. Some glass got stuck in my eye. They had to sew it up.”

Pacifica’s smile fell away. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

A grin stretched across Bill’s face, showing all his teeth. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you know all about bad parenting, after all.”

“Bill.” Dipper stepped forward, glaring.

Bill didn’t look at him, holding up his hands and making for the beach house. “Well, come on then, the sooner we can solve this mystery, the sooner we can leave.”

“Bill, don’t be rude.” 

Bill turned around and threw him an exasperated look as if to say, ‘ _Did you forget who you were talking to?’_ For a second, Dipper wavered, but then he dug his nails into his palm. He wasn’t going to tolerate Bill’s bad attitude, not around Pacifica.

“No, Dipper, it’s fine.” Pacifica rested a hand on his arm. “Trust me, I want to get this over with, too. A lot of people have already gone missing. The police have been putting up a bunch of hazard signs to scare everyone away.”

Dipper bristled for a moment longer, but then he took a deep breath and relaxed. “You’re right. Let’s get started.”

Bill’s gaze lingered on Pacifica’s hand for a moment, before snorting and turning around, continuing to walk up to the beach house. Pacifica followed him while Mabel drew up next to her brother.

“I wonder what’s got Bill in such a bad mood.”

Dipper glanced over at his sister, frowning. “What bad mood? He’s just being a jerk like always.”

“Really? You don’t see it?” Mabel tilted her head and hummed. “Guess I’m just imagining things. Or he could be hungry. Who knows?” She shrugged.

Both jogged to catch up with the others.

…

Bill felt like dunking his head in a bucket of ice. He compensated by sticking his head in the refrigerator, massaging the bridge of his nose.  _Already off to a bad start. Great._  He just hadn’t been expecting the Northwest brat to be so … put together.

He smacked himself across the face.  _Oh, get over yourself, you’re acting like a kicked dog. Who cares about her? Like she's got anything on me._ He reflected on the image of Dipper’s face upon seeing her but shook it away.

Bill sifted through the fridge, looking for anything of Pacifica’s worth eating. Eventually, he settled on a cup of organic yogurt and shut the door. He picked up a spoon and tore off the lid, angrily stirring the substance before popping it into his mouth. He curled his upper lip and glared at the pile of goo.  _Tastes like glue and milk mixed together._ His stomach didn’t seem to care, though, and he continued shoveling the paste into his mouth as he walked out into the foyer where the other three stood chatting.

“I can’t believe you actually live here.” Mabel threw her arms out, gesturing to the wall to wall glass window that faced the glittering ocean. “Get a load of that view. Could you imagine getting up in the morning in a fluffy robe with a cup of coffee? It’s like a dream.”

Pacifica laughed. “Technically, I don’t actually live here. It’s still my parent’s property, they just don’t know I’m here. My parents lost track of how many beach houses they own, so I’m safe here for now. I have some people leading them on a breadcrumbs trail somewhere in Brussels.”

“Nice.” Mabel gave her thumbs up.

Dipper frowned. “Your parents are still this upset at you for leaving?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it upset. More,” she paused, clicking her tongue, “slighted. They still can’t believe I left. Even though I’ve been telling them for years that’s what I’d been planning to do.”

“It must be really frustrating.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Bill didn’t know if he was imagining the closing distance between the two, but either way, he was already pushing against Dipper’s shoulder and rolling his body between the two. “So, what’re we gonna investigate anyway? Got any bodies for us to dissect? Please tell me you do.” He laughed, bits of yogurt flying everywhere.

“Ugh, gross.” Dipper stumbled a bit as Bill pressed up against him. “Can’t you go a minute without acting weird?”

Pacifica laughed again. Bill scrunched up his face. Why did she have to be so annoying?

“He’s right, Dip. C’mon, follow me, I want to show you guys something.” She led them to a long hallway and turned into the last room on the right. The room itself was empty, sans a few potted plants, unlit candles, and a meditation mat on the floor. The scent of incense assaulted Bill’s nose and he snorted, the smell tainting his pallet.  _Great, more incense. Well, at least it doesn’t make this taste any worse_ , he figured, scrapping the plastic cup for remaining yogurt.  

Pacifica approached one of the shelves and picked up a small, inscribed pendant. “I found this on the shore one day. I don’t know what it is, but the writing on it reminded me of something in one of the journals.”         

Mabel took the pendant and turned it over. It glimmered under the fluorescent lighting. “This is why you suspected something supernatural, then?” 

“Yeah. Everything about those disappearances was weird. The waves aren’t that big around this time of the month and there weren’t any rip currents. One of the lifeguards said that they thought they saw something pulling the victim under, something shiny. The Coast Guard searched for hours, and they never found a body once. I think they might still be alive somewhere.”          

Bill rolled his eye, returning his attention to the cup. Most likely the people just drowned and Northwest couldn’t accept it. 

Mabel tilted her head and then shrugged, passing the pendant onto her brother. He thumbed the runes carved at the top, an excited note entering his voice.

“Whatever it is, it must be valuable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kind of material before. Maybe some kind of ritualistic token or a map. Bill?” 

Bill looked up. Dipper was looking at him expectantly, holding out the artifact.

“You probably know what this is, right?”     

The sureness in the kid’s tone took him back a bit. He felt oddly flustered but shook the feeling off.  _At least he hasn’t lost his senses._

“‘Do I know what this is’, he asks.” Sauntering forward, he took the pendant in one hand, rolling it between his fingers. “This is clearly a, um, wait a second.” He traced the insignia in the center of the object, fishing in his memory for anything familiar.  _Polished. A stern face with a crown._  He could feel everyone’s eyes on his him, making it that much more difficult to concentrate. “I, I think this is supposed to be Greek, but it’s different somehow.”          

The confident look fell from Dipper’s face. “Wait, you’re saying you don’t really know?”

Heat crept up Bill's neck. He felt the same as he did when he was lying injured in the hospital. The images plucked a string in his mind, but the actual memory was a smoky picture that refused to form. “I … no.” 

He handed the artifact over, and Dipper evaluated it, clearly disappointed _._  Bill tucked his chin and continued scraping the empty yogurt cup, feeling small.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually.” Pacifica looked at Bill and smiled. “It’s okay, man, we’ll work this out together.”      

Bill glared at her, but before he could say anything, Mabel said, “She’s right, we need to get cracking if we want to find out what happened to those people. I declare this investigation officially instated.”

Dipper stared at the rock for a moment longer, before nodding. “The sooner we get started, the better. C’mon, let’s get our stuff from the car. I need to grab my laptop.”        

…       

They set up shop on the back porch. The sound of the ocean’s waves and the light, salty breeze were soothing. An hour’s worth researching revealed the identities of the four victims. A marine biologist. A grocery store clerk. A fisherman. A stay at home father.

Dipper also discovered that the language on the pendant didn’t appear in any of the journals, something that surprised him greatly. It threw a wrench in the entire investigation.       

As the twins worked, Bill lied sprawled on one of the sofas, wracking his brain for some way to contribute. 

_This is pointless. Those people are dead and Pine Tree knew it. So why bother to work this hard to solve it?_

He wondered if it had more to do with the Northwest than it did with the mystery, but he pushed that thought away.  _I’ll give them all three days before they give up_. In the meantime, he thought about ways to entertain himself.      

Dipper typed away on his laptop, his fingers a blur and his eyes sharp. Bill pushed himself up off the couch and hovered at Dipper’s side. He skimmed the report on the laptop screen but quickly became bored with that, more interested in the way Dipper paused. He didn’t acknowledge Bill, however, and continued typing. Bill smirked, and then propped his chin on Dipper’s shoulder.     

“Psst. Hey. Pine Tree.”           

Dipper paused again, and Bill could hear his muffled sigh.  

“Piinnee Treee.” Bill tugged on his collar. “How’s it going, Pine Tree?”    

“It’s going,” Dipper mumbled, pulling up one of the many profiles he had printed. Bill skimmed through its contents.  _Marie Dunbar, Age 27, Marine Biologist to the Beachside Aquarium, blah blah._ “The only thing any of these people has in common was that they were at the beach. I can’t make sense of it. What's the link?”   

Bill nodded, and Dipper put the report back down. Dipper didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation, and Bill frowned.

“What were they all doing?”

“They were at the beach,” Dipper said in clipped tones. “I don’t know, man. They were all in the water and got dragged under.”

“All of them were in the water? Are you sure?”

Dipper didn’t answer, and after a moment Bill realized he didn’t intend to keep talking. With a huff, he butted Dipper’s shoulder with his head.

“You know, Pine Tree, you’re looking pretty stressed. You wanna play a game? Twenty questions? Hmm? You can go first this time.”           

“I’m sorry that you’re bored, Bill,” Dipper said, “but I shouldn’t get distracted right now. Maybe later.”         

Bill huffed, straightening up and walking away, hands tucked in his pockets. He eyed the pool on the other side of the patio and crept towards the edge. He got another idea.

“Pine Tree!”   

Dipper jerked up. “What?”   

“Let’s go swimming.”

“Wh—” Dipper slumped in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Bill, do you even know how to swim?”       

“Umm.” Bill got on his knees and stared at his reflection in the water. “Would it surprise you if I said no?”    

Now visibly annoyed, Dipper returned to his laptop.

 _C’mon, kid, I’m really trying here._  “Well, clearly the only option is that you teach me to swim. Right?”

“I don’t know, Bill. It’s gonna be a busy couple of days. Maybe once we solve this mystery.”

Bill stared at Dipper for a moment longer, hoping he would look back, but the man remained stubbornly fixated on his work. Sighing, Bill crossed his legs, staring at the face he still wasn’t entirely used to. With a sneer, he dunked his hand into the water, fracturing the glass surface.

Just then, Pacifica walked back into the room with Mabel in tow. They both held two glasses of a suspicious, pink liquid.

“Hey,” said Pacifica. “Take a break. I made some smoothies for everyone.”

Dipper perked up. “Don’t tell me that’s that awful kale mush.”

“It’s mango, you uncultured swine. I would never force you guys into my new diet and lifestyle. I learned my lesson last time.”

“Last time.” Mabel shuddered. “Ugh. There was green everywhere _._ ”

Pacifica placed one of the smoothies on the table and then walked over to hand one to Bill. When he didn’t take it, Pacifica smiled. “It’s really good, I promise.”

He stared at her. “Did you know there used to be a saying about never taking a drink from a Northwest? If you did you were a fool, because it was sure to be poisoned.”

“Oh.” Pacifica’s smile slipped, and the sight filled Bill with intense, visceral pleasure. “I actually didn’t know about that.”

“Bill.” Finally, Dipper looked over at him, his expression a clear warning.

Bill glared at him, before snorting and taking the drink. “I’m just kidding, Pine Tree, learn how to take a joke.” Once her back was turned, he spat into the drink and set it down without comment.  _Nice try, Blondie._

“So,” Pacifica began, sitting down and picking up her own drink, stirring it in with a straw, “is Pine Tree some kind of nickname?”

Bill snorted, but he was so far away he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him. He was about to reply but then Dipper said, “Yeah, Bill has a nickname for everyone. It’s kind of his thing.”

“I’m Shooting Star,” Mabel declared through a mouthful of smoothie.

“Aw, that’s so cute.” Pacifica giggled. “It’s like when Dipper tried to come up with all those code names for us when we were fifteen.”

Bill fumed and opened his mouth to snap. “Actually—”

“Umm.” Dipper looked up from his laptop. Bill closed his jaw with a crunch. Dipper shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Oh, yes, it does.” Mabel laughed so hard she snorted up her smoothie. “Isn’t that right,  _Agent Eagle Alpha_?”

A distinct blush crept onto Dipper’s cheeks. “Oh, God.”

“Yeah, and I was, what,” Pacifica scratched her chin in thought, “Peacock Delta?”

“… Agent Peacock Pi.”

The women descended into a fit of laughter. Dipper curled up until his forehead nearly touched the laptop. Bill found an opening and cleared his throat.

“You know, there’s actually a reason for—”

“Oh, would you lighten up, Dipdop.” Pacifica smacked Dipper’s arm, still giggling. Grinding his teeth, Bill hugged his legs to his chest, mumbling old curses under his breath.

Dipper sighed. “Why am I always the target for these embarrassing stories?”

“That’s what happens when you’re super embarrassing,” Mabel said.

“Really?” Dipper swirled around in his chair. “You’re going to talk to me about embarrassing? At least I didn’t have a punk phase.”

Mabel flushed. She scooped up a pillow and threw it at him. “How dare you bring that up?”

“If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

“Saboteur.”

All three of them were in stitches. Pacifica rocked back and forth and tears had formed in Mabel’s eyes. Then, Pacifica leaned forward and placed her hand on Dipper’s arm, steadying herself, and Bill jumped to his feet.

“Do you have a bathroom around here?”

At Bill’s sudden outburst, the trio paused and looked over. Bill became hot with embarrassment, but he stood firm, chewing on his cheek.

Once she recovered, Pacifica nodded. “Yeah, um, if you go down the hallway, it’ll be the last door on the—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.”

Bill stuffed his hands in his pockets and scurried off. After he got out of earshot, he released a large, agitated sigh. 

_‘I don’t want to get distracted, Bill,’ he says._

_You didn’t seem to mind it when she was distracting you._

What had come over him? So, the kids were laughing at some old memories. What did he expect? This is what friends did, right? They had years of history with each other, of course, they’re going to have stories that didn’t involve him, he was their  _arch-nemesis_  for Christ’s sake. Of course, they were going to have inside jokes that he wouldn’t get. Of course, she could make him laugh with barely any effort.

Bill snorted, and then whispered, “Oh,  _I’m_ Pacifica Northwest,  _I’m_ from a family of murderers,  _I’m_ super rich and perfect and can make smoothies without using fattening dairy products.” In his frustration, he kicked the wall, hissing when pain exploded in his toe. He hopped around on one foot, still grumbling under his breath.

_This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous._

And yet, the sight of her touching him so casually …

Why was it affecting him so much? It didn’t make any sense. Bill ran an angry hand through his hair. The image played over and over in his head, his mind stuck in a loop of seething bitterness, of being ignored.

Why did it  _hurt_ so much?

He thought back to the empty hospital room and cringed. Then, his mind wandered back to the antique shop, and the fortune teller within.

_Those closest to you will flee in anger and fear, and you will be alone._

The sound of the raspy-voiced demon sounded so clear in his head that Bill jumped back.

 _That’s_ _ridiculous_.  _You had a DEAL. They aren’t going to abandon you because of this._

 _She’s their friend and they trust her,_ _he_   _trusts her, she's rich and beautiful and the only thing you have any more is an empty head—_

He continued down the hallway, staring without focus at the various doorways he passed.

_She's a pathetic, attention seeking hog. There's no way they would ever consider her better than you, and that's that._

Thinking he had found the door to the bathroom, Bill edged his way inside. It was dark, but the light from the hallway was enough to confirm that this was not, in fact, the bathroom. 

Curious, he brushed his fingers against the wall, trying to find the light switch. When it wasn’t there, he inched further into the room, squinting his eye.  _Has to be … around here … somewhere …_

Bill collided with a large, stone pedestal. His heart seized at the sound of clattering ceramic. Instinct made him throw his arms out and, suddenly, a large, glass vase flattened him onto the floor. He cursed as his old wounds flared. The stone pedestal crashed onto the ground with a loud  _ca-chunk_ , rattling Bill’s brain in his head. He heard footsteps and a moment later the lights flicked on, blinding him. Cringing, he looked over to the doorway to find both the twins and Pacifica standing in the doorway.

“ _Bill_ _._ ” Dipper ran forward and crouched down next to him. Bill half expected to get yelled at again. Instead, to his surprise, Dipper helped him sit up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

 _O-oh._  “I’m fine, kid. Just trying to find the light switch.”

Mabel picked up the vase from off Bill’s chest, and Dipper pulled him to his feet. He kept his hand on Bill’s shoulder, though, eyeing his chest up and down as if he were expecting Bill to burst open. Bill felt warm, pleased with the attention.

Then, Mabel gasped.

“Pacifica _,”_ she said, holding the vase up to her face until her nose almost touched it, “is this an authentic Qing dynasty porcelain vase?” She hugged it to her chest as if it were a newborn and whirled around, eyes shining. “Where did you get this?”

“This one I swiped from the family’s old storage unit. It’s been collecting dust for years.” Pacifica pried the vase from Mabel’s iron grip and turned it over in her hand, looking for fractures. When nothing came up, she sighed with relief. “It’s where I got a few of these, actually. The rest are from local painters.”

Satisfied with his inspection, Dipper wandered over, far more interested in the other conversation. Bill deflated, cold.

“So wait, did you steal these?” Dipper asked. “Pacifica, you’re a total criminal. Stan would be so proud.”

“Oh, hush. I have every right to sell these paintings, same as my father or mother. It’s not my fault they wanted to keep it away from the world. What’s the point of art if nobody can look at it?” With Mabel’s help, she righted the pedestal and placed the vase back in its proper position. Mabel continued to gawp at it, stars in her eyes. “All these are going to feature in the auction once we can secure a location.”

Mabel looked up. “What happened to that convention center downtown?”

“The manager is still being stubborn. Something about ‘wanting nothing to with the greedy parasites of America’.” She scoffed. “She’s almost given in, though. It shouldn’t be much longer.” A nervous tremor shook her voice, and she sighed. “I hope this works. With all we’ve spent on advertising already, this is our only chance.”

“You’re gonna do great.” Mabel patted her arm. Pacifica placed her hand over Mabel’s, smiling. Mabel then walked further down, eyeing the various collections with a carnal hunger. “How can you afford all this stuff anyway? The convention center, the advertisements, what have you?”

“I’ve been saving up birthday money since I was fifteen.” Dipper shot Pacifica an incredulous glance, and she shrugged. “I have a lot of generous cousins.”

“What a surprise,” Bill mumbled, patting his shirt for imaginary dust, “falling back on your family’s fortune yet again.”

Pacifica stiffened. This time, when Dipper turned to glare at him, any earlier concern gone, Bill cowered. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked to the other end of the room, glaring at the small painting in front of him. “So, people actually pay for this kind of thing, huh?”

“Eeyup.” Mabel appeared next to him, a hand to her chin as she assessed the piece. “I think the record for the most expensive painting of all time is over $250 million dollars.”

He leaned down to read the label.  _Nonfigurative Abstraction. Redundant much redundant?_  Bill shook his head, snorting. “Humans are always finding ways at surprising me with their stupidity,” he mumbled, low enough that Pacifica couldn’t hear. “It’s just something some random person sneezed up when they were half asleep and yet humans go nuts over it.”

“You’re a human now, too, Bill,” Mabel patiently reminded him. He sneered and waved her off. “And besides, art is great. Even the weird stuff. It’s all about being universal and evocative. People in the art world see the beauty in—”

Bill held up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Star. I’ve  _been_  to the Art World. There weren’t any people there, only spirits of art and they didn’t see the beauty in anything beyond the inside of their own incorporeal asses. If none of them could explain to me why this junk is worth money, I sincerely doubt that you can.”

Mabel huffed but shrugged and backed off. “I do agree that it the money thing is completely ridiculous. How can you put a price tag on something as priceless as art?”

Bill flipped over the tag.  _Starting price: 500k_. He cringed. “Like that, apparently.”

Dipper’s laughter drew his attention. He looked around hopefully, but that hope died in his chest when he saw Dipper deep in conversation with Pacifica. He could feel the familiar stirrings of irritation, but couldn’t do anything to stem it. Instead, he dashed over to the duo and threw an arm around Dipper’s shoulders.

“Ow!  _Bill—_ ”

“Hey Pine Tree, if you had a choice between being buried alive or stranded at sea, which would you choose.”

“What?”

“Just answer the question.”

Dipper opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it and snapped it shut. He hummed for a moment, thinking it over. “Well—”

“How did we get stranded or buried in the first place?”

Bill looked over and scowled. Pacifica had a hand on her chin.  _I wasn’t asking you_ , he wanted to say, but figured he had pushed his luck far enough. He slid off Dipper’s back, planting himself between the two. “Does it matter?”

“Sure, it does. Say if I were on a high-profile cruise ship that sunk, there would be a lot of lifeboats and people with me. That would be better than if I were buried in the middle of the woods, right?”

“She makes a good point,” Dipper said.

A pulse jumped in Bill’s forehead. “It’s hypothetical—”

“In turn,” Pacifica said, “it would be better to be buried alive in the 1800s when putting a bell in someone’s coffin was common practice. That way I would just have to ring it and wait for someone to dig me up.”

“I—”

“Wasn’t that done by the wealthy, though?” Dipper asked.

“No no, I think it was pretty common for middle and lower class to do that, too.” She then laughed, flipping her hair. “I wouldn’t have to worry either way.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Pine Tr—”

“Come on,” Dipper said, “we really should be getting back to work.”

Dipper turned to leave, followed by Pacifica and shortly after by Mabel. He didn’t look to see if Bill had joined them.

Bill stared at them, incredulous, and looked back to the painting that seemed to engross Dipper so much earlier. He curled his upper lip.

_—alone alone alone—_

“Bill?” He turned around. Mabel was standing in the doorway, a slight smile on her lips. “You coming or what?”

Bill sighed and jogged out of the room. Mabel flicked off the lights behind him and closed the door. Up ahead, Dipper and Pacifica had their heads bent as they continued their conversation. Bill frowned and tucked his hands into his pockets, glaring angrily at his shoes.

…

Two hours later, they broke for lunch. Pacifica ordered some subs from a local shop and Mabel insisted that they eat on the beach. When Dipper insisted he kept working, Mabel grabbed him by the waist and carried him down to the shore. He pitched a fit, flailing his limbs.

“Mabel, let go of me _—_ ”

“Not a chance, bro-bro. You need to relax. If you don’t your brain’s going to shrivel up and turn into a peanut. We can’t have your brain turning into a peanut.”

She didn’t let go until they had reached the shore, where she plopped him down. Pacifica had laid out a collection of blankets for them to sit on while Mabel opened the cooler and began tossing subs to their respective owners.

Dipper grumbled under his breath, flipping through a notebook that he managed to snatch before Mabel’s manhandling. “No reports suggesting they found any trace of a giant squid.” He quickly wrote something down.  _Scratch, scratch._ “But there’s still a chance it could … but maybe … camouflage?”  _Scratch, scratch, scratch_. He brought the pen up to chew on the tip.

“Uuugh, Pine Tree.” Bill took a seat on the blanket beside him, pressing up against his shoulder and stretching until Dipper was nearly bent over. “Just looking at you is making me stressed out. Kick it down a few notches or else your brain really will turn into a nut.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dipper smirked but still didn’t look up from his notes.

Bill smiled weakly. Why was the kid so determined to ignore him? “I don’t really—”

“He’s totally right, Dipdop.” Pacifica strolled towards them and bopped Dipper on the head with his sandwich. Bill closed his mouth so fast he almost bit his tongue. “You keep this up and you’re going to start giving  _me_ gray hairs. If that happens, I’ll hunt you down.”

Finally, Dipper looked up, smiling. “Why would it matter? You would just dye over it anyway.”

Another bop. “Rude. Now eat your sandwich, screwball.”

Bill watched as Dipper groaned, but otherwise set aside his notepad and took the sandwich, unwrapping the foil. Pacifica sat down on his left, and Dipper readjusted himself and Bill didn’t know if he just imagined the way he scooted closer to her.

“Hey, Pacifica.” Mabel had a hand curled over her eyes and was pointing to a large collection of boats a couple hundred yards off. “Is that where you keep your family’s boat?”

“Yup. Haven’t had a chance to use it yet, though. Maybe once all of this is over we all can go fishing.”

The twins voiced their enthusiasm, and then silence fell as everyone dug into their respective meals. Mabel vacuumed up her meatball sub and then ran down to the shoreline, collecting various, colorful seashells. The other three ate at a more subdued pace. Bill brought his own sub to his mouth, nibbling on the bread, and found that he wasn’t very hungry.

“So,” Pacifica started after swallowing a large bite of her salad. “How are things up at the Mystery Shack?”

“Pretty good. Business is getting a little slow now that it’s August, but we’ll manage.”

“Hey, Mabel,” Pacifica said. Mabel was crouching further down on the shore, gathering up nearby seashells into a pile. She looked up at the sound of her name. “How are classes going?”

“Terrible _,_ ” Mabel said, throwing a pink shell into the center of the pile. “Trying to get study groups together is a pain. Video chat is a nightmare because our internet sucks so bad.”

“I’m surprised you did the online course thing in the first place. I always imagined you partying at some football school.”

“Yeah, well.” Mabel held up her arms in defeat. Seeming done with that conversation, she returned to her pile of seashells and began dispersing them. Dipper chuckled softly.

“It’s been tough, but we’ve been doing all right, all things considered.”

“Meet anyone, you know, interesting?”

“And what is thatsupposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Pacifica wiggled her eyebrows. “Now that you have your books published you’re practically a celebrity. You have an adoring fan base. You haveto have met a nice girl along the way, right? Or guy, whatever.”

“Oh yeah, considering most of my readers are pre-teen _,_  I can’t see anything going wrong with that.” Dipper smirked. Pacifica spluttered with embarrassment, and Dipper took a large bite out of his sandwich. “Uuugh, buzz off, you’re starting to sound like my mom. Why is everyone always so obsessed with my love life?”

Mabel threw a shell at his feet, snorting. “The only one who can never shut up about your love life is you _._ I remember during high school you wouldn’t stop talking every time you had a crush on somebody.”

“How many crushes has Dipper had anyway?” Pacifica asked.

“Why are we talking about this, again?” Dipper grumbled under his breath.

Pacifica ignored him, holding out a single digit. “I remember Sarah from that camp we went to. You could  _never_ work up the guts to ask her out.”

“Don’t forget about Wendy,” Mabel said. Pacifica nodded.

“Yeah, can’tforget about Wendy,” Pacifica extended another finger, and then added under her breath, “even though she was way too old for you.” Dipper groaned. “Oh, but then there was Michelle, and you actually didask her out.”

“Michelle … Michelle …” Mabel scratched her forehead. “Was she the one that tried to hit you with her car when you wouldn’t go to her aunt’s wedding?”

Dipper sighed. “Yup. She nearly cut me with a shaving razor when I broke up with her. I wonder how she’s doing now.”

“And then there was Zachary.” Mabel squealed. “You were  _so in love_ with Zachary.”

At this, Bill noticed, Dipper became tense. He tightened his grip on his sandwich, his lips twitching into a frown. The others didn’t seem to notice.

“Who’s Zachary?” Pacifica asked.

“Oh, he was this dork from our school’s old swim team. He was in our junior class and Dipper adoredhim.” Mabel beamed. “One of the worst cases of puppy love I’d ever seen.”

“Oh,  _oh_ ,  _Zachary._ ” Pacifica thumped her own forehead. “Sheesh, how could I have forgotten about that. You would not stop texting me about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, that was a thing,” Dipper grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can we please talk about something else now? Please?”

“Jeez, Dipper, why are you so embarrassed about it?” Mabel asked. “So you liked a guy. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Like, really," said Pacifica, “I think I have more to be embarrassed about. I didn’t even know guys could get together. Mabel had to explain to me how it worked, remember?”

Dipper laughed. “That actually happened?”

“That wasn’t even the worst of it,” Mabel grunted as she pushed a pile of sand into a mountain, wiping her brow. “Remember when we had to give Pacifica ‘the Talk’?”

“Oh my gosh, yes.You guys were the ones that told me where babies come from. My parents were such prudes, they never told me anything about sex. Ugh, homeschooling was awful.”

The three continued their walk down memory lane as Bill idly drew in the sand. He had long since given up trying to think of clever ways to include himself in the conversation.

He wasn’t close to them. He didn’t have any memories to share. What was he going to say?  _Yeah, good times, right? Remember when I tried to engulf you all in a nightmare realm? That was fun. Right?_

He started to wonder why he was even there.

“Bill?”

He looked up at the sound of his name, surprised to see Mabel staring up at him. She beckoned him with her hand. “Come over here, I need a hand with this sandcastle.”

Pondering her strange request, he stood up, shaking the sand off his pants before making his way down the shoreline. Dipper didn’t make a comment at his leaving, engaged in a subdued conversation with Pacifica. Bill tried not to think about it, crouching down in front of Mabel’s seashell pile.

“What’s new, Star?” He picked up a few of the shells and squeezing them in the palm of his hand. He enjoyed the coarse exteriors. “Realizing that all your sand construction is destined to crumble and disappear into the Earth just like the rest of human endeavor?”

“Something like that. Here.” She fanned out the shells she had collected thus far and held up a scallop. “You think this would make a good eye for a dolphin?”

Bill hummed, dropping each sea shell he had in hand one by one. “Seems like all it would make is a dead crustacean.”

“You know, that’s one of my favorite things about you Bill; your limitless creativity.” Mabel laughed, and Bill allowed his lips twitch upwards. Even as she kept her smile, Mabel’s voice dropped. “Are you okay?”

Bill didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno. You just seem kind of sad. And you weren’t eating.”

"I don't know what you mean."

"You know, and it's kind of weird saying this, but you're a terrible liar."

There wasn’t much of a point in feigning denial. Star seemed to have an uncanny knack for telepathy, and Bill found it much more difficult to hide his lies when he had a fleshy body to manage. He sneered, unhappy with the thought.

“Just got a lot of things on my mind, Star.”

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. But just remember that you  _can_ talk to us about it, you know?”

Bill frowned and looked away. He wondered how understanding she would be if he told her he had the powerful urge to throw the Northwest girl off a cliff.

“I got ya, Star. It’s nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I …”  _No. I’m not sure of much of anything anymore._ “It’s fine,” he repeated in earnest. She held his gaze until his eye started watering and human instinct demanded he look away.

Mabel began picked up a few of the shells and placed them in their own pile. “Wanna give me a hand?”

_You know what? None of this matters. Because what’s going to happen once this stupid mystery’s been solved? She stays here, and I get to go home with them. Then everything will be back to normal._

Bill shrugged. “Sure.”

…

Dipper sighed, closing the bathroom door behind him and running a hand through his hair.

The investigation wasn’t going well. Nothing from the various reports they had collected revealed anything illuminating. For all they knew, those people really could have just drowned and they all were wasting their time. The only thing that hinted at something strange going on was the artifact and the eyewitness account of the lifeguard. 

_Something shiny. The victim was struggling as if something was pulling them under._

With the pendant the only thing they had to go on, Dipper tried to research the language it was written with. Bill had been correct when he pointed out its similarity to Greek, but there were just enough differences that Dipper was convinced it had to be something else.

Shaking himself, Dipper continued down the hallway.  _We knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. It never is. Just keep moving forward._

A loud clanging noise echoed through the hallway and Dipper froze.  _What was that? Bill? Did he knock something else over?_ It sounded again, and he realized it was a piano with its keys being banged on. Dipper followed the source of the noise to the other end of the hallway.

He discovered Bill sitting cross-legged on a piano bench, pounding the keys with clenched fists. From this angle, Dipper could only see his mouth. He was gnawing at his bottom lip.

What’s with him today?Ever since they arrived at Pacifica’s house Bill’s seemed determined to act like a jerk. They had been making such great strides over these past few weeks and this bad attitude was surprising. 

_Surprising, but not shocking._

_But what could be bothering him so much?_

Bill noticed him just then. A hesitant smirk slunk onto his face.

“Hey, this is a private venue. You want a show you’ll have to pay like everyone else.”

_Or maybe I’m just imagining everything._

Dipper walked into the room. Bill scooted over and he took a seat on the bench, running his fingers over the keys. “Do you know how to play any music?”

Bill shrugged. “Used to. Not anymore. Piano needs stuff like muscle memory to play well. This is the longest I’ve ever had muscles for one sitting. Besides, it’s still a bit weird to have five fingers instead of four.” He wiggled his fingers to make his point and then resumed slamming the keys. Dipper slapped him away.

“Come on, man, you might break it or something.”

Bill huffed but backed off. Dipper played a quick scale, followed by a disjointed version of  _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. He never had the patience for piano.

Bill cleared his throat and asked, “How are the investigations going?”

“Fine,”  _no thanks to you_ , he was tempted to add, but quickly dismissed it. Bill had seemed genuinely distressed when he was unable to recognize the script on the shiny pendant and Dipper didn’t feel like rubbing salt in the wounds, even if he’s been acting like a jerk, lately.

Instead, he said, “We’re at a bit of a dead end right now, but Pacifica’s trying to get contact information for the families of the missing persons. We might be able to get a bit further if we can figure out what the victims were doing before disappearing. We need a link.”

“Do you honestly think there’s something supernatural going on here?”

Dipper had to think it over for a moment. “I don’t know. The evidence suggests that somethingstrange is going on, but nothing really seems to be adding up.” He didn’t say how much he was hoping that there  _was_ something supernatural afoot, that he didn’t drag them all down here and waste all this time over four drowned bodies.

Another moment of silence. He chanced a glance at Bill who staring down at his hands in his lap, deep in thought. Then, Bill looked up and said, “You think we’ll get to go back to the Shack soon?”

That was unexpected. “Who knows? Hell, it might take Pacifica a whole week just to get the information. We never really gave ourselves a time limit.”

The answer didn’t seem to please Bill. He frowned and looked back to his hands, picking his cuticles.  _He seems kind of upset. Is he homesick?_ Did Bill even consider the Mystery Shack his home now?

It was still so strange to think about it sometimes. Bill, a human. Bill, living with them. Bill, somewhat tolerable if you catch him in the right mood. Dipper may have gotten used to it, for the most part, but sometimes the surrealism struck him hard.

Seeming to reach a decision, Bill opened his mouth. “Dipper, you know that I’m not … I’ve never been very—”

“There you are.”

Bill snapped his jaw shut so fast Dipper could hear his teeth click.Pacifica hurried into the room, her necklaces jingling, brimming with excitement as she clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“My contact came through. She said she’ll have the info faxed over to us by tonight.”

There was hope for the case, after all. “That’s great. We might be able to set up a timeline now.” Dipper tried to scoot over, only to find that Bill wouldn’t budge. “Bill, make some room.”

Making a strange noise between a sigh and a snarl, Bill jumped to his feet and scurried out of the room. Dipper was too shocked to say anything.

“What’s his problem?” said Pacifica.

Dipper glanced up at Pacifica, who had her eyes narrowed and was glaring at the door. The way she fiddled with her bracelets gave away her anxiety. Dipper sighed and scooted to make room.

“Don’t worry about him. He just gets like this sometimes.”

“‘Don’t worry about it’, he says,” she responded scathingly, taking a seat. "I'm  _me_ _,_  remember? I always worry." Her fingers went to the keys and she played a few scales in quick succession. “I mean, was it something I said? I’d apologize if it were.”

“Trust me, it isn’t you.” Seeing Pacifica so distraught over Bill’s behavior made Dipper’s fingers twitch with irritation. She didn’t deserve to be mistreated like this. In a bid to distract them, he gestured to the piano. “Wanna play something? You still have that one lullaby Mabel wrote for you in high school?”

A small smile twisted Pacifica’s lips, and she redirected her attention to the piano. “I have it memorized. It went like …” She hummed for a moment, then began to play.

By the time she was halfway through the song, Dipper completely forgot anything to do with Bill and his bad disposition.

…

At this point, all Bill hoped for was to solve this stupid mystery and run back to Oregon as fast as possible. No more Northwest with her perfect smiles and plethora of nostalgic memories. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were.

Night fell. They ordered Chinese food for dinner and sat around the dinner table. Dipper sat between Mabel and Pacifica on one side with Bill alone on the other. Bill picked at his lo mein noodles with a fork, trapped in the limbo of starvation and nausea.

 _Just a few days, just a few days, just a few days …_ He clung to the thought like a drowning man fighting for air.

“Bill, can you pass the soy sauce?”

Bill blinked awake. Mabel was looking at him, chewing on her eggroll as she gestured at the tub next to Bill’s elbow with her chopsticks.

“Oh. Sure.” He stretched his arm across the table and she took it from him, smiling.

“Thank you.” She poured a puddle of the goop onto her plate and dabbed it with her sushi. “So, was your guy in the unit able to find that footage from the pier’s camera yet?”

It took Bill a second to realize she wasn’t talking to him. Pacifica shook her head, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“It’s going slowly. They have to cycle through almost two weeks for camera film. He’ll pull through in the end, but it’s going to take a while.”

Dipper scarfed down his chicken. “Hopefully, we won’t need the footage if the families have anything to say about it.”

The table descended into silence as everyone dug into their respective meals with varying enthusiasm. Then, they all looked up at the sound of a tiny chuckle.

“You know, it’s really weird,” Pacifica said, flipping around a small water chestnut on her plate. “I had forgotten how much fun solving these mysteries was with you guys. Like, seriously, I’m getting crazy nostalgic.”

Dipper and Mabel both smiled and looked at each other. “We had some good times,” Dipper said, turning back to Pacifica. Bill wanted to vomit.

“It was something, alright. Even the scary, messed up stuff seems fun, looking back on it.” Pacifica smirked. “Remember when we all discovered that one baby insect in the forest, the one with rubies for eyes? And then the entire town almost got run over because its parents were looking for it?”

“Lady Button-Eyes,” Mabel said. “How can I possiblyforget her?”

“Wasn’t that the one that tried to eat my bookshelf?” Dipper frowned. “Yeah, those teeth marks are still there.”

“Oh,  _oh_.” Mabel flapped her hand. “What about that time Grunkle Stan found that treasure map and we ended up nearly blowing up half the Northwest mansion?”

Pacifica shuddered. “My parents were so pissed.”

The three of them snickered, and Bill tightened the grip he had on his pants leg.  _Just a few days just a few days, you’ll never have to see her again, she’ll be out of our lives, just a few measly days …_

After collecting himself, Dipper turned to Pacifica and said, “You ever think about coming back to Gravity Falls someday?”

Bill froze.

Pacifica hummed to herself, continuing to flip the water chestnut. “I do miss it from time to time. Everything can get insanely hectic down here; there’s hardly enough time to think. It’s exhausting.”

Dipper nodded along. “You could stay at the Mystery Shack if you’d want. We have enough room. It’s been soboring without you around.”

_Boring? Does he really think I’m boring?_

“I’m sure.” Pacifica flipped her hair and then smiled. “I don’t really know. I’ll think about it. Let’s see how the auction goes first.”

_No. No, no, no, nonono, you’re supposed to stay_ _here_ _—_

“That’s fair,” said Mabel, shrugging. “I hope everything goes well, but in case things go south you can always fall back on us.”

On the one hand, Bill wanted watch Northwest’s ambitions crash and burn, because she's a  _maggot_  and _deserves it_. 

_But if she fails … would she really follow us back to the Shack? Would they really make space for her? Would she really take …?_

_—ALONE ALONE ALONE ALONE—_

Bill tightened the grip he had on his fork, his knuckles going white. _She’s nothing more than a lying snake. Can’t survive without her family’s blood money. Egocentric. Obnoxious. Why would they want her when they have me?_

The others continued their meal, unaware, and that hurt just a little bit more. Mabel sighed, setting down her empty plate.

“God, that yellowtail was incredible.”

“Oh, yeah, the hauls that those nearby fishing companies can bring in are amazing,” said Pacifica. “It’s some of the best on the west coast.”

Mabel hummed, patting her belly in content. “Praise be to the humble fisherman and fisherwoman. It isn’t an easy task, bringing all these delicious morsels for our eating pleasure, but by Jove, they do it anyway. Praise be.” She closed her eyes, continuing to hum. Then, she narrowed her eyes. “Wait.” She jumped up to her feet. “Dipper, where did you put those faxes?”

“Huh? Um, back in the sitting room, why?”

She grabbed her brother’s sleeve and yanked him onto his feet, dragging him out of the room. Dipper yelled in protest, balancing the food on his plate to keep it from falling. 

“I have an idea. We’ll be right back.”

Pacifica was already halfway to her feet, but at Mabel’s words, she sat back down, throwing a confused look over at Bill. He glared.

“Looks like she figured something out,” she said, smiling. The silence stretched on and slowly the smile disappeared. She looked back down at her plate, fiddling with her food. Bill drew a great deal of amusement watching her squirm with discomfort. Then, she cleared her throat. “So. Bill, right?”

Bill debated whether he should ignore her, but then decided it would be much more fun to do something else. “Eeyup, that’s me.”

“Is it short for something? William?”

“Beelzebub.”

She chuckled. “That’s funny. You’re funny. I can see why the twins like you so much.”

 _Oh really? Between being ignored or snapped at, it’s amazing that you'd reach such a conclusion._ Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s amazing she’s able to notice anything beyond her own nose.

She looked away again, bringing hair behind her ear. “So, you’re boarding at the Shack, right? Do you like it up in Oregon? It can get a little cold sometimes, but the—”

“Do you know how many people must hate your guts? Your own parentshate you. Why are you trying to cozy up to me specifically?”

Pacifica flinched. She narrowed her eyes, face flushing with anger. “Excuse me?”

“Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, right? People who hate themselves as much as you need a lot of support.” His grin widened. “By the way, how doesit feel to share a name with the people who abused you into being the princess of their sociopathic dynasty? How does it feel to remember you were once proud of that? I can’t imagine.”

All the color drained out of her face, the anger replaced fear. “how did you know about my—” Shaking herself, she began rising to her feet. “What the fuck is yourproblem—?”

“Sit down.”

Whatever courage she had built fell away at the sound of his tone and the coldness of his eye. Slowly, she returned to her seat. His wide grin returned.

“You’re a rich little tart, surrounded by your treasures and excess wealth. You have more than enough to fill that emptinessinside you. But now you’re trying to take away those two, everything I have, just because you miss the good old days?” His voice had started to rise in pitch and he struggled to lower it. “I can’t decide whether that’s pathetic or selfish. Probably both.”

She was trembling, and tears had formed in her eyes. Bill knew he won when she dropped her eyes to her plate, holding a hand over her mouth.

He smirked, then returned to his food, scooping a large portion of noodles and beef into his mouth. The flavor danced on his tongue and he sighed. “Oh, and to answer your question,” he continued nonchalantly, pausing to swallow, “it has been getting a little nippy lately now that summer’s almost over. Shooting Star promised to knit me my own sweater before the snow sets in, so I should be fine.”

No answer. Bill didn’t expect one. He continued to eat in silence, immensely enjoying his food, until the twins returned moments later, buzzing with energy. Mabel ran a few feet ahead, a wild gleam in her eye.

“Fishing,” Mabel said, slamming the large files on the table. “They were all fishing. All four of them. That’s our link, I’m sureof it. We can finally work on baiting whatever it is that took those people in the first place.”

“We’ll definitely give it a shot first thing tomorrow,” Dipper said, more subdued than his sister but no less excited.

Bill had to wait to swallow before answering, wiping his lips with his hand. “Oh, so now we move onto 'live bait' part of this trip. Well good, it’s about time this investigation got interesting. Promise me you’ll wear a worm costume, Pine Tree.”

Mabel smirked. “If only. All we’ll need to do is send one of us out in a secured position and start fishing. At the first sign of trouble, we’ll strike—”

“Pacifica, are you okay?”

Bill looked up from his food. Dipper was staring over at Pacifica. Pacifica had yet to look up from her lap, her hand clenched into a fist, and, for a moment, Bill held his breath.

After exhaling a deep breath of air, Pacifica looked up, blinking. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” She sounded only mildly befuddled, but Bill wasn’t fooled.

 _Kid’s a good actor,_ he marveled and saw it fit to cut in. “We were just talking about the weather back up in Oregon.”

“Really?” Dipper had an eyebrow raised, incredulous. “You were talking about the weather?”

“Oh, yeah. Isn’t that right? Golden Bell?”

She didn’t even flinch and Bill would have applauded her if he could.

“Golden Bell?” Mabel asked, looking up from the reports. “Did you just come up with that nickname now? That’s adorable.”

Bill smirked. “I’m glad you approve.”

Dipper made no comment. He juggled his gaze between both Bill and Pacifica, frowning. Pacifica wouldn’t look up from her plate, and after a moment, she rose to her feet.

“I’m gonna go and start my evening meditation,” she declared, carrying her half-empty plate to the kitchen.

“You can’t go now,” Mabel said. “We have to start planning.”

“It’s okay, you can start without me. I have some things I need to think about.”

She left, despite Mabel’s protests. Dipper said nothing. Bill allowed himself only a moment to stew in his victory, before shrugging.

“Well, you heard the lady. What have you knuckleheads cooked up so far?”

Mabel grumbled but otherwise shook it off. She fanned out the reports on the table. “From what we can tell, whoever or whatever’s attacking these people aren’t very big. They were snatched up in shallow water.”

“Yeah,” Dipper leaned forward. He fished out a fuzzy picture of a middle-aged woman sitting on the pier, a fishing rod in hand. “It’ll be simple enough. One of us will act as the bait from a secured location and see if anything shows up. The others will have to be on standby.”

Bill pushed out his chair and stood, circling the table until he was brushing elbows with Dipper.

Things could finally go back to normal.

…

It was a few hours later as Bill was walking down the hallway to his room when Dipper found him. Bill had just gotten out of the shower and was ready to go to bed when he heard hastened footsteps behind him. He turned around and smiled at who he saw.

“Well, isn’t this turning out to be a fun little vacation?” he said, pausing as Dipper drew up next to him. Dipper’s expression was solemn, but Bill didn’t pay it much mind. “You know, most people would have been content with just a gas station robbery or getting chased by a swarm of Thunder Gargoyles. ‘That’s enough excitement for one day,’ they’d say. But  _you_ , oh, you two can just never settle, can you?”

He chuckled, expecting Dipper to smile and retort. It didn’t come, and Bill looked up, frowning. The severe expression had yet to leave his face. “Hey, what’s with you? You look like you just murdered someone for money.”

Dipper looked at him hard, and Bill found that he couldn’t hold the gaze. He dropped his eye to his feet, a bad feeling sinking into his gut.

“I was just talking to Pacifica. Did you say something to her? She wouldn’t tell me.”

The bad feeling got worse.

“I say all kinds of things to all sorts of people,” he said. “You’re going to have to be more spec—”

“Do you think that I’m an idiot?”

Bill swallowed his next few words. He wanted to leave, but he found himself paralyzed. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Dipper narrowed his eyes.

Bill wasn’t going to be able to weasel his way out of this and, at the thought, something hot flared in his mind. “You know what? Fine. Let’s have a nice, long conversation. First one we’ve had since we got here. We’ll talk about what I said to your rich, hippie friend.”

“Watch it, Bill,” Dipper said. “You’re already walking on thin ice—”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s glad she has you defending her, right? Mr. Hero-Complex? It’s not like she could hire a guard twice your size to do that instead. Kid, the only reason you’re out here instead of her is because she knows I’m right.”

“Shut up, Bill.”

“Right, this is the part where you rescue the damsel and save the day. Only she’s not some innocent damsel. She knows that she comes from a family of good-for-nothing liars. It’s in her blood. She knowswhat a selfish attention wh—”

Dipper shoved him, hard, and Bill slammed into the wall. He reached up to touch the back of his head, eye wide in disbelief.

“Don’ttalk about Pacifica like that again.” Dipper took a moment to collect himself, breathing heavily as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You ever heard of ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you’, Bill? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but it stops here. You’re going to apologize to her tomorrow. If you don’t …” Dipper licked his lips. “If you don’t, the deal’s off. I’m not bringing you back with us after we’re done here. Do you understand?”

Bill swallowed. Dipper waited, staring him down with that terrible stormy gaze until Bill eventually nodded. “I read ya, Pine Tree. Crystal clear.”

Dipper sighed and then walked away, leaving Bill alone in the dark hallway. Bill watched him go, shaking. He wanted to run or scream or break something.

In the end, he just slid down the wall. He curled up and forced himself to breathe.

_Alone._

_Alone._

_Alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for this fic has blown me away, honestly. You guys are the best readers an author can ask for! Here are a few links to some beautiful fanart for DBC:
> 
> [[cinnabarbarian]](http://cinnabarbarian.tumblr.com/post/123396175127/just-wrapped-this-up-as-part-of-a-trade-with) Scene from Chapter 2, Bill enjoying his spaghetti. Just ... God, _look at it_. The detail in this piece is astounding. There's nothing I can say that can properly convey how much this means to me.
> 
> [[superpokenerd]](http://superpokenerd.tumblr.com/post/126109869072/hey-guys-this-is-athina-blaines-commissions-for) By my good friend, superpokenerd, who shares my taste in 'Bill wears button up pajamas'. You get me, girl. =w=
> 
> (You guys really are the best. I don't deserve this.) ;w;
> 
> ((Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).))


	9. Mabel Pines, the Ambassador

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extreme situation forces Bill and Pacifica to call a truce.

Bill sat curled up on the floor, bracing his head against his arms. His eyelids were heavy. A small part of him hoped that Dipper would come back, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet. Joints popped and he shuffled down the hallway. Everyone had already gone to bed, so at least he could be alone in his humiliation, but that meant all the bedrooms had been taken. He was effectively banished to the living room couch. His mortification grew.

With his travel backpack in tow, he flung himself onto the couch, grabbing the decorative blanket draped over the back and wrapped it around himself, curling up on a throw pillow.  _Who needs Pine Tree anyway? I’ve had plenty of time to adapt to this body’s circadian rhythm. I’ll be fine._

He tried to doze off in the darkness of the living room, lulled by his breathing and the distant sound of the ocean’s waves. The closer he sunk into sleep, however, the louder the darkness became. A strange anxiety settled over him and he broke out in a cold sweat.

A nightmare brushed the edge of his mind. He bolted upright with a gasp, heart pounding in his chest. Kicking off the blankets, he stood up, rubbing his sweaty hands against his shirt as he struggled to get his breathing back under control.

_Well, who needs sleep anyway?_

Sitting back down on the couch, he rummaged around in his suitcase and pulled out a beaten-up notebook.  _Bill’s Journal Log No. 2_ , the cover declared. He flicked through the pages until he found where he last left off. He started writing.

Bill looked back into his mind as far as he could, scratching away at page after page. He wrote about the nature of the multiverse and the laws that dictated its various impossibilities. He wrote of immensely powerful beings that weaved realities into existence and pulled on the threads of others to tear them apart.

His human mind struggled against the seemingly incomprehensible memories. A headache had formed in the front of his temple, but he stubbornly ignored it.

He wrote about time, stretched out like a web and blowing in quantum winds. He wrote about the more eccentric multi-dimensional beings he encountered, and about the river of alien refuse where he met Xanthar. He wrote about the life forms of foreign dimensions and did his best to describe their impossible geometries in mere words.

Bill hissed, bringing a hand to his forehead. The pain had become unbearable and the words refused to come. He tapped the paper with his pencil, erasing a sentence and rewriting it, only to erase it again, tearing the paper by accident. With a snarl, he dug his eraser deeper into the tear, only making it worse until the entire paper had ripped in half. He slammed the journal shut and threw it against the wall. He dug his fingers into his hair, grinding his teeth.

It was only 1:39 in the morning.

Desperate, he pilfered his backpack, yanking out the clothes Mabel had packed for him, hoping to find a solution, or a distraction, at least.

Then, a small plush fell out of his backpack. Surprised, he picked it up. It was the bruised platypus toy Mabel had given him in the hospital.  _Right. ‘Sleeping Companion’._ She must have put it in there when she packed up the rest of his things. He flipped his backpack upside-down. As he expected, Dipper’s book tumbled out, battered and heavily dog-eared from when Bill had read it.

Sighing with defeat, he curled back up on the couch, leaving his clothes strewn about as he wrapped himself up in the blanket. He held the gifts close to his chest. They were poor substitutes for the real thing, but it certainly couldn’t hurt, right?

Bill closed his eyes, wishing the last few days were just a bad dream and he would wake up back at the Mystery Shack.

_You really are a human now if your wishes are that pathetic._

…

By the time morning came, Bill had migrated to the kitchen’s bar, doodling small pictures in the dust. None of them were particularly flattering, especially those concerning the blonde heiress. Huffing, he wiped his hand on the counter, sneezing as the dust assaulted his face.

“Bless you.”

Bill looked up in time to see Mabel round the corner, dragging her feet as she entered the kitchen.The sight of Mabel up early was so bewildering that Bill’s sleep-deprived brain had to take a few seconds to process it.

Mabel opened various cabinets, shoulders hunched and expression violent. It was a fearsome sight. When she closed the last cabinet door, she groaned. “The woman doesn’t even have coffee,” she said to herself, rubbing her eyelids.

Bill remained silent, too nervous to make a well-placed jab at Pacifica. How much did Mabel know? What did Dipper tell her? She wasn’t going to let Dipper leave him behind, was she? Bill rested his chin on his arms, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

Mabel had pulled out a tin of biodegradable teabags, mumbling under her breath, _“_ —gross hot water tasting lucky it still has caffeine or I’d— _”_ as she took out a coffee mug.

“You want one?” she asked suddenly, turning to face him. Her eyes were bloodshot and Bill felt a trill of caution roll over him.

“Um, no, thanks.”

She stared at him for a moment, before shrugging and punching numbers in the microwave. She leaned back against the counter, waiting.

 _Is she mad? I can’t tell. I’ve only ever seen her in the morning once and she had her coffee, then. Is this just typical withdrawal?_  Bill picked at his cuticles, uncomfortable with the uncertainty.

He flinched when the microwave beeped. Mabel descended on the steaming mug like a ravenous hawk.

After taking several, long gulps, she sighed. “Much better.” She turned to Bill and smiled. “I mean, it’s still terrible, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

 _She doesn’t seem very upset. Maybe she doesn’t know? Or she doesn’t care._ He hoped it was the second one, however unlikely. He could use someone on his side.

But he took too long to answer and Mabel frowned. “Whoa, you look wrecked. Did Dipper keep you up with his late-night reading again or something?”

“Um, no, not really.”

“Are you okay, bro? You seem kind of—”

“You know, I think I could actually use some tea right now.”

If Dipper hadn’t told her what happened last night, Bill wasn’t going to be the one to fill her in.

Mabel blinked, taken aback. She shrugged and set to work on making a second cup. Dipper appeared just then, eyes on his files while holding a fishing rod under his arm. Bill shrunk down in his seat, wondering if he should go hide in the living room somewhere until they had left.

“Morning, bro-bro,” Mabel said, waving slightly. Dipper grunted without looking up. The microwave beeped and Mabel removed the steaming mug, placing it in front of Bill. “Want a cup of your disgusting leaf juice?”

Dipper glanced up from his files and tensed when he saw Bill. He cleared his throat, taking a moment to process the question before shaking his head. “I’ll have some later.”

_Ah. So that’s how it is._

“Kay.” Slurping up the last of her tea, she slammed her mug on the counter with a bang. “ _Team Pines: Sea Monster Hunters Extraordinaire_. Should we go wake up Pacifica?”

“Nah, we’re just doing some surveying.” Dipper had glued his eyes to his papers now. “She likes to sleep in late anyway.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Do you have the net?”

“Yup, yup.” Trotting over, Mabel opened one of the compartments on the back porch and pulled out a large fishing net. “That creature isn’t going to take usby surprise, no siree.” She drew up next to her brother and they both began heading outside. “I’ll have to run out and get some coffee later. That tea was terrible.”

“You made it in the microwave, what did you expect?”

“Your face is what I expect.” Mabel turned and waved at Bill. “Yo, we’re going to be down at the beach for most of the morning, so drop by whenever you feel like. Or don’t. You’re off the clock.”

Bill’s lips twitched and he nodded, his eye on Dipper as the two exited the house. The kid hadn’t looked up once. With a sigh, Bill turned to his tea and began stirring it with his finger.  _Well, he didn’t yell at me again, at least._ He didn’t know if that was better than beingignored, though.

He brought the mug to his lips, uncaring how the liquid seared his tongue. The taste settled and he scrunched up his nose.

Disgusting. 

…

When they reached the edge of the pier several yards away from the beach, Dipper took a deep breath. The ocean beneath the pier was a dark, deep blue. Salt settled on his tongue. His eyes and arms were heavy with drowsiness.

Tucking the fishing rod under his arm, he inspected the files. Three of the four victims had been lounging on this pier before being dragged under, the fourth having been on a boat further out. He and Mabel decided that this would be the best place to set up a lookout point. The beach was still deserted, guaranteeing privacy.

“What a gorgeous day outside, ladies and gentlemen,” Mabel said with a poor excuse for an Australian accent, holding her rolled up files like a microphone. “It’s the perfect weather for sea monster hunting.It’s gonna be a blooming slobber knocker.”

“Slobber knocker _?_  Where did you get that?”

Mabel shrugged. “The internet.”

“Right.” Done with the files, he reached for the fishing rod and held the papers out to Mabel. “Here, hold this. I’m gonna see if this thing works.”

She did as told and then continued reporting to an invisible camera, throwing in random words like ‘ _ripper_ ’ and ‘ _fair dinkum_ ’. Dipper tuned her out, flicking the rod and watching the line fly a few yards away.

He allowed the bobber to float for a moment before quickly reeling it back in.  _Works pretty good._ It’s been a while since he’s gone fishing so he was glad he remembered the basics.  _Maybe we can all go out to the lake sometime. Bill wouldn’t—hmm …_

The thought of Bill just soured his mood again. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small, strange pendant. He flipped it, catching it in the air before sighing.  _How did this turn into such a mess?_

“Something eating at you, bro-bro?” Mabel leered over his shoulder brow furrowed.

Dipper tucked the pendant back into his pocket. He cast the line out, this time waiting a few moments before reeling it back in. “Nope. Nothing biting yet. We’ll just have to go and buy some bait later.”

“Hmm.” Mabel backed away and walked to the other side of the pier. She kicked off her sandals and sat down, dipping her toes in the water. “Did something happen with Bill last night? He looked exhausted. Did the Chinese food keep him up or something?”

Sighing, Dipper cast the line out again. “I don’t know.”

“Did something happen between you two?”

He entertained the thought of lying to her for a moment, saying ‘ _everything’s fine_ ’ or ‘ _it’s nothing_ ’, but he knew Mabel wouldn’t believe him anyway. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Mabel frowned, craning her neck to get a better look at his face. “Are you sure? You seem like you could use a good talking to.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Later.”

“Okay. Just don’t forget.” Mabel resumed swinging her legs over the pier, twisting the fishing net in her hands. “Hey, is that Bill up there on the porch?”

Dipper looked up. Sure enough, Bill was leaning against the railing. Mabel waved, and after a moment, Bill waved back. He had to bite back another sigh, wishing he had more energy to be as angry as he was last night.

_What am I going to do with him?_

Just then, something tugged on his fishing line. Dipper turned around, narrowing his eyes. He hadn’t even had any bait. He tried to reel it in, only to find that it wouldn’t budge. Did he snag a reef or something?

Mabel whistled low under her breath, standing up. “Whoa, what is that?”

“I’m not sure.” He grunted, using his full strength to try and pull the bobby back. But something powerful pulled on the line, and the rod was torn out of his grip. Heart pattering, Dipper stepped back.

“You don’t think it’s here, do you?” Mabel said, cautiously holding up the fishing net.

Dipper stared out at the sea, chewing his lip as he surveyed the surface of the water. “Maybe. I don’t know. We should head back, just in case.”

“Right.”

Dipper scooped up his files and began walking back. He heard Mabel shuffling a few feet behind him.  _Better safe than sorry. We should probably bring some weapons next time. Maybe a harpoon? Pacifica will have to—_

A gasp.

“WAIT—”

Dipper turned around in time to see his sister, screaming, being pulled into the water.

“MABEL.”

His thoughts were cut short when he felt a human hand grip his ankle and yank his feet out from under him. His hat flew off. He fell backward, cracking his head on the pier before submerging in the freezing water of the ocean.

…

Bill stared, frozen. One second, the twins were lounging on the dock; the next, gone. He charged down the slope of the beach, nearly tripping in his sandals.

He fell to his knees and gazed into the water, a part of him deliriously hoping that he’d find the twins floating there. But there was nothing besides his own, rippling reflection. 

 _They can’t be gone, they_   _can’t._

He struck the water, breathing heavily.  _You can’t do this to me, you can’t._

Bill cradled his head between his legs, struggling to focus. He spotted Dipper’s hat floating in the water. He scooped it up, staring at it with wide eyes.  _They’re gone, they’re gone and I don’t know how to get them back—_

_—would you calm down and think for a moment. You need to remember something that can find them—_

_—I’m all alone—_

_YOU WILL BE IF YOU DON’T DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS._

His vision swam; he wasn’t getting enough air. He felt powerless. Powerless and weak. Not since the rougarus had he felt so lost. Being tossed around and torn apart. No escape, no recourse, no options, no hope, right up until it all faded…

Faded into gray.

Bill’s breath caught.

The Mindscape.

Jumping to his feet, Bill booked it back to the house, squashing the hope that budded in his chest.

…

Pacifica woke up to the sound of the door being thrown open.

“Blondie, I need you to knock me unconscious.”

Scrambling into a sitting position, she tore off her sleeping mask. Bill stood panting in the doorway There was a wild look in his eye that put Pacifica on edge. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Wha—”

When she opened her eyes, he was directly in front of her, and she choked on a scream.

“Just knock me unconscious _,_ what’s so hard about that to understand? I don’t care how you do it. You’ve probably wanted a go at me for a while now anyway, right?”

Blinking, some lucidity returning to her, Pacifica gasped. “Your eyeball is gone.”

Bill groaned. Pacifica stared at the blank eye in horror. “I really don’t have time for this, Blondie. Just—” He looked around the room. He grabbed the lamp on her nightstand, ripping the plug out of the wall before dropping it in her lab. “Just whack me over the head with this. Even someone as brainless as you can do that, right? Got it?”

Tossing the lamp to the side, Pacifica shoved Bill away and stepped out of bed. “Spitting in my face isn’t going to help, you ass. What do you want?”

“Have you been listening? I want you to knock me unconscious.”

“Is this some weird penance thing? Dipper told me he talked to you, but that doesn’t mean—”

“It’s not a penance. It’s extra-dimensional dream magic.”

Oh, this sarcastic asshole. “Are you making fun of me? Look, just because I have an alternate spirituality—”

“That’s not it, I swear. I have a chance of finding Dipper and Mabel but onlyif you knock me out. What have you got to lose? Worst case scenario, I stand here while you kick my ass. Please.” His voice broke. “You needto do this for me.”

He was really serious about this.

Taking a deep breath, Pacifica clapped her hands on his shoulders, staring into his eye. “Calm down. Okay? Just breathe with me, alright? Breathe in.” She inhaled deeply, holding it for several seconds before slowly exhaling. Bill glared at her, but Pacifica glared back, and she dug her fingernails into his arm. “Breathe. In.”

Bill curled his upper lip but eventually did as told. Pacifica waited until he completed the exercise three times before letting him go and stepping back. “Start from the beginning. What happened to Dipper and Mabel?”

Chewing his tongue, Bill paused to think. Now that he was calm, Pacifica could get a better look at his expression. Frazzled. _Did he get any sleep last night?_  It was then that she noticed Dipper’s hat in his hand. 

Bill exhaled. “You know that thing that’s been scooping the locals up like candy lately? The one you called us down here to investigate?”

Pacifica’s breath caught. “What about it?”

“The brats were out surveying or whatever on the pier when something dragged them away. I couldn’t get a good look.”

Pacifica took a few unsteady steps back, falling back down on her bed. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

Bill glared at her. “You think I would jokeabout something like this? Golden Bell? You really arean idiot.”

At the sound of that name, Pacifica snarled. Rising to her feet, she shoved him away and charged out the door. When she reached Mabel’s room, she threw the door open, hoping to find the Pines twin sprawled out on the bed. She found nothing. 

“Dipper? Mabel? Where are you?”

She checked Dipper’s room and found nothing yet again. She searched the whole house, trying fend off her rising panic and failing.

When she finally ended up on the back porch, she spotted something on the pier. The files from their investigation, fluttering in the gentle breeze.

Hands over her mouth, she collapsed onto a porch chair, tears pricking her eyes.  _This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have called them down here at all._

A loud banging sound roused her. Bill stumbled into view, yanking a shirt over his head. The shirt was inside out, but he didn’t seem to notice. He had changed into a pair of jeans and sneakers and had reapplied his eyepatch. He still held the hat in a clenched fist.

He drew up next to her, sneering. “Sheesh, and I thought I worked terribly under pressure.”

Pacifica whirled around, deeply satisfied when he flinched away. “Are you kiddingme right now? My best friends might have just drowned _._ ”

“Yeah, well.” Bill glanced down at his feet. “Look, I know it’s not your first instinct but you’ve gotta trust me here.” Crouching down to her level, he gestured to his eyepatch. “This? This is because I’m not from your dimension.”

“I thought you said it was because of your drunk mother.”

Bill rolled his eye. “I lied. Last month, I made a deal with Dipper and Mabel to make me a human body for my own protection and I’ve been living at the Mystery Shack ever since so they could keep an eye on me.”

Straightening up, he held out his arms wrist-up, displaying the circular drawings she had assumed were tattoos. “These are binding marks. These keep me bonded to this body. If all of them were to be damaged in some way, I would, well, bad things would happen. But the thing is,” he continued, ignoring Pacifica’s baffled look, “I still have some access to the abilities of that dimension. You’ve heard of the Mindscape, right? I could—”

Pacifica held up a shaking hand. “Okay, would you hold upfor a second?” She kneaded her forehead, trying to process the slew of new information.  _What did you two get yourselves into? What deal? I remember them talking about the Mindscape, too, with that demon—_

She made the connection and broke out in a cold sweat.

“You’re Bill Cipher, aren’t you?” She looked up. His expression had paled. “From the journal?”

Bill took a long moment to respond, licking his lips and keeping his eyes averted. Pacifica didn’t wait for him to answer, lurching to her feet. “That’show you knew so much about me and my family. You were the one that tried to kill Dipper and Mabel  _twice._ ”

“Wrong _._ I only tried to kill them  _once—_ ”

Pacifica punched him in the jaw. Bill nearly flew off his feet and was just barely able to catch himself. “I don’t know what your plan is, Cipher, but I’m not going to let you hurt them again.”

Bill rubbed his bruising cheek, glaring at her with undisguised hatred. “Well, thatwon’t be too difficult, considering they’re probably at the bottom of the ocean.”

“How do I know you didn’t kidnap them or something, huh? What if this is just some weird trick? Dipper told me all about you. You hurt people just because you’re bored and don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re selfish and evil. Why should I trust you with anything?”

“You— I—” Bill had taken several steps back, breathing heavily. His eye was unfocused, and for the first time, Pacifica could see how scared he was. “Things are different now. A lot of things. Okay? And why would I have them risk their lives to come down to California to help you?The last thing I want is for Shooting Star and Pine Tree to get hurt. You haveto trust me on this.”

He stubbornly held her gaze, and she found herself looking away.  _They all got along fine yesterday. Dipper would have signaled me if he or Mabel were being held hostage, right?_   _It’s not like I want him to be lying anyway. If he can actually find Mabel and Dipper._ She couldn’t sense a lie.

“Okay,” she said, exhaling a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll go along with this, Cipher, for now. For Dipper and Mabel.”

“Good,” Bill said. “We’ve lost enough time to your temper tantrum.”

Pacifica narrowed her eyes.  _Guess him being an ass isn’t going to change anytime soon._ “What do you need me to do?”

“Easy. Just knock me out.”

“Seriously? That’s all we need to do?”

“Well, hopefully.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “See, I’ve only tried it once and that wasn’t even on purpose.”

“Are you kidding me? This is our only chance of finding them and you’re not even sure it will work?”

“Would you just shut upand hit me already? Or are you gonna have to hire somebody to do it for you?”

If Bill wanted to get punched out, he was making iteasy. She sighed. “I’m not going to hit you again, idiot. I might accidentally give you a concussion. Just, turn around, alright?”

With a sneer, he crossed his arms and turned, grumbling under his breath. Even though he tried to hide it, she could see the tension in his shoulders. She hesitated. _Even if it is that awful demon, I should only ever use my skills for self-defense. This is just wrong._

Seeming to sense her hesitation, Bill cocked his head towards her, frowning. “I’m askingyou to do this, Golden Bell. Quit your simpering and just go for it already. If you don’t, I’ll have to do it myself.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t let it be so easy to get under your skin, huh?”

With a huff, Pacifica pushed aside her pacifism and wrapped an arm around Bill’s neck. His eye bulged, but he didn’t attempt to throw her off. Pacifica derived the smallest pleasure watching his eye flutter shut and he slumped but felt instantly sick with herself.

She laid him down on the floor, kneeling next to him.  _Should I leave him like this? He never gave me a time limit._ She stared at his face, pondering what to do next. His eye was moving sporadically under his lid.  _Well, at least it looks like it worked._   _I really hope he’s able to find them._

But then, something changed. Pacifica narrowed her eyes, leaning closer.  _His breathing’s different_ , she realized. His breaths had become haggard as if he were running.  _Bad dream, maybe._ Sweat broke out on his forehead, and his expression became strained.

Suddenly, he stopped breathing altogether.

_Shit!_

Pacifica knelt behind him and hoisted him up. She used her knee to brace his spine and then pulled his arms back. For a moment, nothing happened.  _Shit! Shit, shit, shit!_

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when Bill’s eye flew open and he gasped for air. His breathing was shaky and sweat soaked his hair.

“Are you okay?” Pacifica asked. “You look awful.”

Despite looking exhausted, he still managed to summon enough energy to shoot her a venomous glare. “I’m …” He paused to take a large breath, “I’m just peachy, Blondie. How long was I out?”

“I dunno, a few seconds, maybe.”

Bill’s eye widened with shock, but he quickly turned his face, hiding his expression from her. “Get me a pen and paper.”

Pacifica felt like saying, _Would it kill you to say please?_  but the situation was far too dire. She ran into the kitchen, grabbing a stubby pencil and a notepad, along with a glass of water because she was nice like that. When she returned, Bill had yet to stand up from his place on the floor and she wondered if he even could stand at all.

He took the pen and paper and even accepted her drink, chugging the entire glass in a few swift gulps. Water trickled out the side of his mouth, but he wiped it away and scribbled frantically onto the notepad. When Pacifica looked over his shoulder, he curled up, hiding it from her view, much to her annoyance. 

“Did you find them?” she asked a moment later.

“You know how to use that old boat of yours, right?”

Pacifica blinked. “Um, yeah. Why?”

“Good.” Finally, Bill rose to his feet, although he almost fell back down just as quickly. Pacifica’s first instinct was to reach out and help him, but something held her back. He stood on trembling legs before she could change her mind.

He turned to her, frowning.

“They’re in Atlantis.”

…

_Cold._

_Cold?_

_God, why is it so freaking cold right now?_ Mabel wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.  _It’s like 10 degrees. Did Bill forget to fuel the furnace again?_

As Mabel drifted closer to consciousness, she realized, not only was she freezing, but also soaked to the bone. _Nothing ruins a day like wet socks. Who did this to me? Where even_ _am_   _I right now?_ Her last memory was being dragged underwater by …

_Oh no._

Mabel shook off the last vestige of sleep. Shivering, she opened her eyes and gasped, though regretting it an instant later when she inhaled a mouthful of water. She choked and flailed, clutching her throat as she began heaving.

However, she didn’t feel the usual burn of inhaling water. No longer in immediate danger, Mabel took in her surroundings. Dipper floated a few feet away, still unconscious. Mabel swam closer towards him, breathing a sigh of relief when she could see his chest rise and fall. Bubbles escaped her mouth.  _I’m in the ocean. We in the ocean. And, and …_

And her neck felt  _really_ itchy. She reached up to scratch at the bruise furiously, flinching away when she felt something …  _scaly_. Moving closer to her brother, she tilted his head, patting her fingers down his neck, only to find …  _are those gills?_

Struggling to keep her panic under control, she grabbed her brother’s shoulders and began shaking him. “Dipper, wake up.” More bubbles flew out of her mouth.

Dipper groaned, blinking awake. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Did Bill dump ice water in my bed again?”

 _He’s out of it. I should give him a second._ Mabel took the time to fully appraise her surroundings. Small, orange lights were scattered about, illuminating the darkness of the ocean. The room they were in reminded her of a dormitory, only everything was made out of coral. The walls, the floors, the furniture, and so forth. A vanity was pushed up against the wall, and Mabel stared at her blurry reflection. In the far corner, there were two giant clams pried open with seaweed lining the bottom. A bed?

The idea that they were in prison was discarded when she noticed that there wasn’t even a door keeping them locked in. Just a sloping arc of coral that led to a parlor looking area, currently empty.

It wasn’t the first time she and her twin had woken up someplace strange (one time during freshmen year, they woke up in the middle of a jungle in the center of the Earth. It was tough finding an elevator back up, but at least they got to skip school that day). But merpeople castle at the bottom of the oceanis certainly in the Top 5 of that list.

A groan snapped her from her reverie. She turned around and swam back to her rousing brother. Mabel could tell the exact moment he processed it when he choked on a scream.

“Wha— Oh my God, wha— where are we?”

Mabel shrugged. “Beats me. But look _._ ” She pulled down the neck of her sweater. “We have gills now. Pretty neat, huh? Looks like the Mystery Twins have officially relocated underwater.”

Eyes bulging, Dipper patted down his own gills. Bubbles streamed from his nostrils. “The last thing I remember is getting grabbed and pulled under water.”

“Same here. I saw some guy swim over and he grabbed me before I could do anything. He was wearing fish armor, so that explains the report from that lifeguard witness. But isn’t this exciting, Dipper? It was merpeople the whole time. We solved the mystery.”

“Merpeople?”

Mabel nodded.

Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, kicking up his legs in the water and humming. “I wouldn’t call getting kidnapped ‘solving’ it, but yeah, I guess it works. We still don’t know why they’re taking people, though.”

“True. Why don’t we go ask them?”

“What? Wait, Mabel—”

But Mabel already began swimming towards the empty parlor room. More of the strange, floating lights were strewn about. At the far end of the room were several large archways that led to other hallways and more dormitories. There was a glassy portcullis on the other end of the room.

“Hello?” she said, looking around. Dipper swam up next to her, grumbling under his breath, which she ignored. “Anybody home? We want to ask you why you’ve been kidnapping people lately. _”_

A head popped out of one of the other rooms and Dipper squeaked with surprise. It was an older woman with brown hair and a wide smile. While she wore peculiar clothes that reminded Mabel of the armor worn by that merperson earlier, the woman was human.

“Hello, there,” the woman said, swimming over to her. Dipper gasped.

“You’re that marine biologist from the aquarium,” he said. “Dr. Dunbar.”

She blinked with surprise, and her smile only got wider. “Yup, that’s me.”

“This is incredible. How have you been able to stay underwater for so long without your skin deteriorating?”

“Oh, it’s really technical, I probably shouldn’t get into, but,” Dr. Dunbar pulled back her hair, revealing a familiar set of scaly gills. “Somehow the merpeople were able to rewrite our physiology. That’s why we’re able to be so deep without our heads popping, too. I’m still doing research on it.”

Mabel extended a hand. “Hi. My name’s Mabel, the nerd over there is my brother, Dipper. We’ve been investigating why you and a bunch of people have been going missing lately.”

“Really? Wow, I didn’t think anybody had noticed when I was gone. The others are nearby. There’s a big open area just down the hall where his Majesty has provided us with some accommodations. We mostly hang around there during the daytime hours. Some of us like to wander the city as well. They let you go anywhere as long as you have a guard to escort you.”

Dipper threw his sister a questioning glance, to which she shrugged. “You don’t sound like you’re too upset by this,” he said.

“Upset?” The woman laughed hard, causing Dipper to flinch. “Why on Earth would I be upset? I’ve been trying to prove the existence of merpeople for years, and now I’m here _._ Living in an underwater palace beats working late at night alone in a lab any day of the week.”

“Does everyonefeel this way?” Mabel asked, quirking a brow.

“Well, no, not particularly. Even though we’re treated well, we aretechnically hostages. Some political conflict, I wasn’t really paying attention. But who cares?” With another squeal, she dolphin-kicked about the expanse of the room. Dipper and Mabel threw each other a baffled look.

A groan at the other end of the room caught their attention. Mabel spotted a man in one of the upper-level dormitories. He was wearing a normal shirt and jeans that looked half disintegrated.

Dr. Dunbar rolled her eyes.

“That’s Greg,” she said in a low voice. “He’s stubborn.” Cupping her mouth, she said to Greg, “Come on down, Greg. Step out of your room for once. Introduce yourself. Stop acting like such a grump.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Greg. His glare was pure poison and he curled up. “Leave me alone.”

“You are sucha stick in the mud. At least say ‘hi’ to the newcomers?”

“Newcomers?” At this, Greg roused. “We’re  _prisoners!_ Hostages! And now these poor kids are stuck with us.” He paused and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s been weeks.”

“You’re right, it  _has_ been weeks. Weeks of good food and relaxation. I even got a massage yesterday, and Adriane said she got to pet a whale. This is a good life—”

“Fuck you. I’ve got a family back home, Doc. My wife and kids probably think I’m dead.”

Dr. Dunbar huffed. “Are you afraid your wife is going to remarry?”

“What? No—”

“Well,then, what are you so worried about? You’re burdening yourself with undue stress. I promise, my friend, a massage from a merperson will lift those troubles right off of your shoulders.”

 “Get some perspective, Dunbar. Christ, are they ever going to let us out of here?”

Sighing, Dr. Dunbar turned back to the twins. “I apologize on Greg’s behalf. He’s quite the pessimist. We’re all happy to have you. If you’ll follow me, I can show you the dining room where everyone—Oh.” Dr. Dunbar blinked, thumping her forehead. “I had forgotten. His Majesty wanted to speak with you as soon as you woke up. It sounded pretty important.”

“O-oh.” Mabel blinked, trying to find her footing through all the tone shifts. “Well, guess it wouldn’t be good to keep him waiting, right?”

“You’re absolutely right. Wait here, I’ll get you an escort. Guess I’ll have to show you around later.” With a smile, she swam out of the room and down the hall until she was out of sight.

Dipper brought his head close to his sister, frowning. “Well, at least they’re not dead, right?”

“Yeah. What was up with that ‘hostage’ thing? I mean, merpeople politics? What does that even look like?”

“This might be a bigger problem than we had thought. We’ll need to be really careful.”

Mabel nodded.  _Man, I can’t believe we got ourselves into this mess. It all happened so quickly too. I had just been waving—_  “Oh man, I wonder what Bill’s doing. He must have seen us getting pulled under.”

The familiar strain returned to Dipper’s face and he looked away. “Probably bothering Pacifica,” he said with uncharacteristic coldness. It was gone a second later, though, and he looked sad. “We need to get out of here, fast.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

Dr. Dunbar was returning. A merperson wearing armor trailed behind her. He held a spear. A guard.Mabel tensed up, but the guard’s expression was amicable.

“Good, you two are awake,” he said. “His Majesty was very keen on speaking with you. If you are able, follow me and I’ll take you to him.”

The twins shared a quick, questioning glance. Dipper nodded, and Mabel turned back to the guard. “I don’t see why not.”

The guards opened the portcullis and the twins followed their escort out into the open water, leaving behind the bubbly Dr. Dunbar and despondent Greg.

The merperson swam with a grace that embarrassed Mabel, who was already starting to develop a cramp from all the swimming. Dipper wasn’t doing much better, flailing his legs and doing a poorly executed breaststroke. It was worse when the merperson had to slow down to match their pace.  _Oh well. At least he doesn’t seem too annoyed. Hmm, he’s actually kind of cute. Wonder what his stance on dating humans are._

The thought reminded her of her old friend, Mermando. It had been ages since she had received a letter from him, almost four years now.  _He’s still a prince, right? He might be able to help with this mess._ But then she remembered he lived over a thousand miles away in the Gulf of Mexico. Even the fastest bottle messenger on Earth couldn’t help them now.

When the palace came into view, Mabel’s jaw dropped.

Fluorescent coral towers loomed over bustling, anemone gardens. The path to the throne room was a meld of colorful shell and limestone woven into organic patterns, lined with luminescent amethyst lanterns. Dozens of merpeople were present in the garden, their scales glowing underneath the golden lighting. It was a hypnotizing display, and Mabel couldn’t look away.

Dipper whistled. “I think I know what Dr. Dunbar was talking about. This place is amazing.”

Mabel looked over at her brother. “Don’t get any ideas, bro-bro.” Dipper smiled and held up his hands and they continued.

They reached the throne room, marked by a smooth, obsidian gate. They were passed off to another collection of guards and taken inside. The interior of the palace dipped and wove as if it had naturally grown into its shape. It took her breath away.

 _Okay. I admit it. There are worse places to be held as political prisoners. Oh my_ _God, just look_   _at the architecture._ She wished she could take notes.  _But I guess pen and paper would be useless down here, huh?_

“If you wait here,” the guard-escort said, “His Majesty will be with you shortly.” The twins nodded and he left them there. There was only a handful of other merpeople scattered throughout the room, talking amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to notice or care of the newcomers in the throne room.

Mabel eyed the throne in question. It was deceptively simple, but a closer look revealed an intricate network of woven coral and seashells. “I hope this king guy’s nice,” she said. Dipper grunted.

“He’s been kidnapping people and holding them hostage. For weeks. It’s not exactly something ‘nice’ people do.”

Mabel shrugged, looking down at her floating shoelaces. “I’m an optimist.”

They drifted there for several long moments, treading water. Mabel was amazed her arms and legs weren’t burning at this point, but then figured a stamina enhancer must have been a part of the ‘breathe underwater’ bundle.

Then, voices sounded at the other end of the hall. The guard-escort from earlier returned, followed by a merperson she could only assume was this much talked about king. The other merpeople in the room looked alert and Mabel suddenly felt self-conscious.

The king wore a five-point crown and, unlike the guards, wasn’t wearing any armor, only a necklace made of various teeth. Thick, brown hair floated about his head. A nicely trimmed mustache rested over his upper lip, complemented by a tidy goatee. His brown eyes were warm and kind.

The guard-escort cleared his throat and straightened up. “Presenting His Royal Highness.”

Mabel cocked her head, squinting her eyes.  _Huh. Thought he’d be older._ Something about his appearance tickled her memory. Then the king smiled and Mabel saw that his front tooth was missing. A lightbulb went off in her mind.

She gasped.

“Mermando.”

Mermando’s gentle smile widened and Mabel’s heart fluttered. She frantically swam forward, no doubt making a fool of herself, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.  _Mermando is here. Right in front of me. All grown up. I can’t believe it._

Mermando gracefully swam out to meet Mabel’s frantic doggy-paddle. When he was close enough, she engulfed him in a spine-snapping hug. Was it inappropriate for her to do this? He was, after all, a hotshot king now. But her worrying ceased when Mermando returned the hug, crushing Mabel to his chest.

“Hello, Mabel,” he said. His voice was exactly how she remembered it. “Oh, it has been so long.” Gently, he pulled away from the hug, holding her hands in his. “It is good to see you again. Though, I do wish the circumstances were better.”

“What’s wrong, Mermando? What’s been happening?”

A dark look passed through Mermando’s eyes, but then smiled again and the look was gone. “We can talk about such things later. For now, I merely wish to catch up with my old friends. And hello to you, too, Dipper.” Mermando inclined his head. Dipper squinted his eyes.

“Right … the guy from the public pool.”

“Well, duh.” Mabel chortled, swimming up next to her brother. “How could you possibly forget Mermando? He wasyour first kiss, after all.”

Dipper went red. “That was reverse CPR and you know it.”

Mabel laughed at her brother’s bitter expression and then turned back to Mermando. “Well, Inever forgot. And now he’s a king. What are you even doing here? Weren’t you with your family down in the Gulf of Mexico?”

“It is customary for the current monarch to change locations every few months. We were supposed to leave a few weeks ago.”

“We?” Dipper mused, narrowing his eyes. “Well, what happened?”

Mermando waved his question away with a calm smile. “There will be time to discuss such things later. This is your first time in my home; allow me to treat you as a guest. I have much to show you.”

He extended an arm out to Mabel. Butterflies erupted in her stomach, and she bit back a giggle as she placed a hand on his bicep.  _Strapping, muscular bicep. Keep it together, girl. Don’t embarrass yourself._

Mermando nodded, and then turned to Dipper, holding his arm out as well. Dipper’s eyes went wide and he puffed out his cheeks. Mabel quirked a brow. Her lips twitched. 

Dipper stared at her hard. He shook his head and seemed to give up. He swam forward, and nervously placed his hand on Mermando’s other bicep. She waggled her eyebrows. Dipper shot her a lethal glare, though the flush of his cheeks was not lost on her.

“Perfect,” said Mermando, oblivious of their telepathic exchange. “Now, first I will show you the garden. There’s a certain flower that grows only in this part of the sea that I think you’ll find fascinating.”

With another flick of his tail, they were moving forward. and Mabel almost lost her grip on his arm.  _Sheesh, those fins have quite a kick … Haha, because they don’t have any feet, get it? Yeah? Ge— never mind._

They swam towards another hallway and the tour began.

…

“I thought you said your family’s boat was in the shipyard.”

“Yeah, the yacht. If we’re going to rescue Dipper and Mabel we’re going to need something else, something bigger.”

Pacifica ignored Bill’s bitter glare, keeping her eyes on the storage house crewmen as they unloaded her family’s freighter into the bay. She crumpled the post-it note in her gloved hand, fidgeting.

Atlantis, huh?

_Why are you two always getting into crazy shit?_

After Bill informed her of his revelation, she changed into a comfortable blouse and shorts before dialing her family’s private storage unit. The call had surprised and annoyed the crewmen, but when she had offered a bonus for helping her preparing the large vessel, they were satisfied.

“How are we even going to drive this monster?” Bill asked. His shirt was still inside out. Pacifica didn’t feel like pointing it out. “You’re not planning on taking anyone with us right?”

“As if. This is a specialized freighter. My dad commissioned it three years ago. You really only need three people to drive it, but I can do it by myself.”

He glowered at her, clearly wishing she wouldhave been that stupid. “You just think of everything, don’t you?” he said. She snorted.

“What? You want me to apologize for being amazing?”

Bill tightened his lips. “Maybe.”

“Sure, whatever. Sorry for being better than you at stuff.”

Curling his upper lip, Bill turned away. In his hands, he twisted Dipper’s hat.

One of the crewmen was approaching them. “She’s all ready to go, ma’am.”

 _Ma’am? Ew._ It reminded her of her mother.

Keeping her disgust to herself, Pacifica held out a five crisp $100 bills. “Don’t tell anyone that the Northwest Freighter was taken out, okay? Keep it off the records.” He looked at the bills, and his eyes widened. She pushed the bribe into his hands before he could refuse. “And thanks again. Have a good day.”

She approached the docked freighter, her pumps clicking on the pier. Another pair of footsteps joined her, and she could sense Bill near her elbow. Boarding the boat, she stuck the post-it note Bill had given her onto the center console and activated the GPS system, inputting the coordinates.  _Please, don’t be far._

“What the absolute hell is that?”

Pacifica turned around. Bill was gesturing emphatically to the blood red submarine that took up most of the amidships. “That’s just the  _Titan_. It’s our family’s submarine,” she added when she saw Bill’s exasperated look. “Well, what did you think we were gonna do? Sail out into the middle of nowhere and just waitfor them to float to us?”

An embarrassed, angry flush crawled up his neck. “No.”

Pacifica shook her head. “You didn’t think any of this through, did you? Sheesh, and you act like I’mstupid.”

Bill looked away, his eyes downcast. The reaction just made her angrier. “Oh, what, did I hurt your feelings or something?”

“Just shut up and drive.” Bill took a seat on one of the passenger chairs without another word, sad.

Pacifica returned to the GPS system.  _Good, it’s only about an hour’s drive. Bill said that they weren’t in any danger. Everything’s going to be alright._ She could breathe easy now. After making the necessary adjustments, Pacifica was able to steer them out of the harbor.

Twenty minutes passed. Once they were out far enough, she didn’t need to focus on driving. The absence of work gave her more time to think, and she found her thoughts focused on her co-captain. He had yet to speak again, clutching that hat between his hands and staring blankly at the ocean like a sailor’s widow. The imagery almost made her laugh.

After giving it some more thought, the metaphor was more accurate than she realized.  _Man, he’s really taking this hard. Like, ridiculously hard. This_ is  _a demon, right? The thing the Pines were so scared of?_

Pacifica believed in being proactive so she cleared her throat. “So. You’re Bill Cipher, huh?”

Bill measured her with his eye before he sneered and looked away.

It figured he’d be difficult. “I mean, last I heard you were floating around in another dimension. And had a lot more, well, edges. There’s got to be a story there, right?”

“Oh sure _,_ there’s a story. Here’s what happened, Golden Bell: It’s none of your business.”

Pacifica lost what little patience she had. “What is your problem?Why are you treating me like this?I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Why do you have to do something? I know you’re used to all kinds of positive attention, but just because you’re a blonde rich girl doesn’t mean I’m obligated to kiss up to you. If you want me to like you, you’re gonna have to earn it like a normal person.”

She sneered. “Fine. If you want to be all irrational and hate me, that’s your choice. We can both hate each other. I have that option. If Dipper and Mabel didn’t need to take care of your clingy, pathetic ass so you wouldn’t starve, they’d probably hate you, too.”

If she thought she had hit a nerve before, she was wrong. His face went red, jaw clenched. But just as she thought he was about to scream at her, the anger drained from his expression. He was trembling, and he looked down at the wrinkled hat in his hands.

It would have been better if he had gotten madder. She thought back to the awful things said to her last night, trying to stay angry. It was difficult when the boy looked like he was a second away from having a breakdown.

What was she even doing? She was better than lashing out like this.

A moment later, Pacifica tried again. “It doesn’t feel very good, does it? When someone attacks your insecurities. Makes you feel like shit, doesn’t it?”

Bill didn’t answer, continuing to abuse the hat. His trembling subside. Then, he said, softly, “You made your point, Blondie.”

Pacifica’s gaze flicked between the creased hat and Bill’s expression. She sighed. “You’re really worried about them aren’t you?”

Bill glared. “Am I not being obvious enough?”

“Yeah.”

She returned to the center console, making a few minute adjustments for the sake of distraction. They had another twenty minutes before they reached their destination. Pacifica hoped neither of them would throw the other overboard in the meantime.

…

Mermando took them all around the palace, from the observatory to the battlements to the schoolyard where the little merpeople played during their break. Mabel had to bite back a squeal at the site.

Soon, the three of them encountered a group of merpeople clustered together on the fringe of the drop-off. When they drew closer, Mabel spotted a human woman. She was wearing the same strange clothes as Dr. Dunbar. The crowd was gathered around a collection of giggling dolphins.

At their approach, one of the merpeople inclined their head.

“Your Majesty.”

The rest of the crowd followed suit, all except for the woman. She remained silent, not even looking towards the king. She was frowning.

Mermando waved them away, smiling. Figuring she was just overthinking it, Mabel swam forward towards the dolphins. “Why, hellothere, you bunch of cuties.” One of the dolphins chirped and head-butted her eager hand, and she giggled. “Dipper, come check this out. Dipper?”

Her brother wasn’t looking at the dolphins, his eyes on the stoic woman. Mabel cleared her throat, getting his attention. She furrowed her brow.

Dipper swam closer to her, and said under his breath, “That’s Margaret Smith. She works on a fishing boat. Or she did, anyway.” His voice dropped so low Mabel almost couldn’t hear him. “She was kidnapped three weeks ago.”

 _Kidnapped_. The word sent whatever good feelings Mabel had out of her system. She glanced over at Mermando, who was talking to one of the merpeople. His features were as gentle as she remembered it, but there was a certain strain to his jaw.

Mabel turned to her brother, his expression steely. She nodded.  _Let me talk to him._

Bracing herself, Mabel floated to where Mermando spoke with the citizen. “Um, Merma- Your Majesty?” Mabel winced. “Um. Yeah. Can I talk to you? Alone, please.”

Mermando’s eyebrows went up. The guard hovering near his elbow tensed, shooting her a suspicious look. Mermando seemed to sense the guard’s thoughts, for he held up a hand with a smile. “Anything for you, Mabel.”

Mabel breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

They swam a few feet from the crowd. Both the guard escort and Dipper hovered nearby, but neither were close enough to hear Mabel’s soft words. “So, yeah. It’s a really nice place you got here.”

“Yes, it is rather marvelous, is it not? Although I much prefer my own home in Mexico, this palace has its own rural charm. I’m glad you approve.”

Taking a calming breath, she wiped her hands on her sweater, despite the fact that she couldn’t sweat. “Umm, yeah. I guess I just wasn’t expecting … It’s kind of weird to find other humans here, ya know?”

The dark look returned to Mermando’s handsome face. “Yes, I suppose the circumstances are rather unusual. It is unfortunate.”

“I mean, Dr. Dunbar is having a friggin’ blast, and it sounds like you’re treating everyone very well. But, well, that Margeret lady seems less than thrilled, you know?”

Mermando didn’t answer this time.

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is …” She hesitated, bunching up her sweater in her hands.

“Why have you been kidnapping fishermen?”

Mabel looked over at her brother clumsily swimming towards them. She huffed with impatience. “Dipper.”

“Sorry.”

Mabel bit her lip, but she sighed and turned back to Mermando. This would be easier with her brother next to her. “So, yeah. That. Your dudes did kind of kidnap us.”

Mermando remained silent, and for a moment, Mabel thought he was going to get angry. Then, he said in a low, low voice, “The bottle messages stopped coming years ago. I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. Why do you wish to ruin our reunion with conflict?”

A stab of guilt struck her. “Mermando—”

“We just want answers,” Dipper said. Mabel snapped her jaw shut and looked away. “Why fishermen? Why kidnapping? And what’s up with this weird pendant we found?”

“Pendant?” Mermando watched as Dipper struggled with his pocket to yank out the small, shiny pendant Pacifica had discovered on the beach. He quirked a brow. “That?”

“What is this, some kind of map? A sacrificial token? Is this some weird ritual? Are you out for revenge? What?”

For a moment, Mermando seemed confused. Then, he started to laugh. “Oh, Dipper, I have only heard stories about your wild imagination. No, my friend. That is a penny.”

Dipper’s brain flicked off. “Seriously?”

“Yes. That is an Atlantian coin. It is worth one-cent.”

“B … but what about these runes? What does it say on the front?”

“It says ‘one-cent’. That’s Atlantian Cuneiform. It’s an outdated language, but we still use it for the coins. It keeps us from having to change the presses in the mint.” He chuckled.

“Hey,” a nearby voice said. The guard drew near and he swiped the pendant out of Dipper’s hand. “You found my lucky penny. Thanks, man, I’ve been looking for this for weeks.” He inclined his head to Mermando. “Your Majesty.”

The guard swam away, leaving Dipper glaring at nothing with tight lips. “I, well, that aside … Ugh, would you just explainyourself?”

“Please, Mermando,” Mabel said. ‘We just want answers.”

To her relief, the dark look had faded from Mermando’s brown eyes. But now he looked sad. “Of course. Of course, you do. You’ve always been so determined, Mabel.” He sighed, looking visibly pained as he did so. “I would like you to come with me. There’s one thing I have yet to show you.” 

Mabel nodded. Both she and Dipper started swimming forward but paused when Mermando held a hand out to her brother.

“I would prefer to speak to Mabel alone,” he said. “She may tell you whatever she wishes afterward.” 

“B-but …” Dipper seemed to think better of his protests and went silent, nodding with a bitter expression. He threw Mabel an earnest glance before allowing himself to be escorted away by the guard. Mabel allowed Mermando to pull her back towards the palace. 

As they reached the end of a corridor, Mermando slowed his place. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “You understand with political marriages that certain things are expected of you, yes?” 

“Umm. Well, yeah, I guess.” 

Mermando fell silent. They were approaching an arched doorway leading to a small, brightly decorated room. Inside the room was a seashell cradle. Several puzzle pieces clicked in her brain. She gasped and glanced up at Mermando. When he nodded, she swam forward to the cradle. She gasped. 

In the cradle lay a large, olive-skinned baby boy. He had a large nose, and a light gray manatee tail from the waist down. He was playing with a mobile with birds, giggling. When he caught sight of Mabel’s face a smile brightened his face and he squealed, holding his chubby hands out to her. Mabel’s heart clenched.  

“Is he—?” She gulped. The answer was obvious as she stared at the baby with wonderment. “He’s beautiful.” 

Mermando chuckled. “My son. He is so strong and kind, and still so young.” 

Tears threatened to choke her. She held out a hand to the baby, cupping her mouth with the other. “Hey there, you.”

The baby reached out and grabbed her outstretched finger, surprising her with his strength.

“Oh man, you’ve got some serious muscle, little dude.” She sniffed. The baby giggled, and she puffed out her cheeks, making several silly faces until he lost interest, releasing her finger. “I can’t believe you’re a dad.”

“Believe me, the thought still surprises me at times, too.”

They both watched as the boy alternated between playing with the mobile and sucking on his knuckles.

Mermando sighed. 

“His mother was taken several weeks ago.” 

The words hit her like ice water. “Manati? She was kidnapped?” 

Mermando was glaring at nothing, his jaw tense. “The ‘fishermen’. They took my wife from us both.” 

More pieces fell into place. “That’s why you’ve been taking people. So this is some kind of revenge thing.” 

“No.” But Mermando’s tone lacked conviction. “I’ve been sending warning messages in bottles for weeks, only to be ignored. My people will not stand for this. They will fight for their queen to the death. We’ve only taken those who’ve repeatedly hurt us. The ‘fishermen’. Normal civilians weren’t involved.” 

“Mermando. Fishermen aren’t just some big group. Those people had  _nothing_  to do with Manati.” 

“They only serve as prisoners of war. As hostages. They will surrender my wife more quickly if it means the return of their own. We treat them with respect, Mabel, I promise you. The same may not be said for my wife.” 

“Mermando _—_ ” 

“Manati is strong and willing to suffer for the sake of peace. Normally I would have the patience to wait for politics, but …” Mermando seemed to break down a little. He glanced down at the baby boy, who seemed about ready to drift off to sleep. “He cries so much now and I fear for his health. He needs his mother to feed him properly. She needs to be there for his first swim. He—” 

“ _Mermando_.” 

He looked away, his shoulders trembling, and Mabel understood why he wanted to speak to her alone. 

She placed a firm hand on his arm. “Mermando, I couldn’t even begin to understand what you’re going through right now. Your wife was kidnapped and your baby is in pain. But you can’tkeep these people here. It’s not right.” 

For a moment, Mermando didn’t speak. He seemed to be putting himself back together. With a deep breath, he turned back to her. “The hostages don’t leave until my wife has been returned to us. This is non-negotiable.” 

“But—” 

“Mabel. Please don’t argue with me.” 

For the first time that day, Mabel could see the king Mermando had become. Strong and unwavering, being what his people needed him to be.

Sighing, she nodded. “Fine. Even though you’re doing exactly what those people who took Manati did to you.” He flinched, but Mabel didn’t allow herself to feel bad. There wasn’t time for that. “I don’t think any of your bottles reached the surface.” 

Genuine surprise fluttered across his face. “But that’s how I always communicated with you.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m a little special. Listen, Mermando. We’re going to help you find Manati and we’re going to rescue her. When we do, you let these innocent people go.” 

Mermando blinked and then stared at her for a long moment. Then, he nodded. “I agree to these terms.” And a bitter smile twisted his mouth. “You’ve become an amazing woman, Mabel. In another life, you would have made an awe-inspiring queen.” 

Mabel snorted. “You’re darn-tootin'. I’ll land myself a prince someday, Mermando, don’t you worry.” 

“You deserve nothing less than a king.”  

He drew her into a tight embrace, which she returned in earnest. She never wanted to let go. “We’ll bring her back to you, Mermando,” she said. “You’re not alone.” He didn’t respond, merely tightening his grip. 

The moment ended and Mabel sighed as she had to pull away. They left the room in silence, wrapped up in their own thoughts as they made their way back to the drop-off. Dipper looked over. The guard turned to them, his brow furrowed. Something was wrong.

“The scouts have spotted a boat, Your Highness,” the guard said as they drew near. Mermando narrowed his eyes.

“So? What is the cause for concern?”

“The boat is situated directly over the palace. It has the lookouts on edge. It’s fairly big, but there're only two humans on it. A man and a woman.”

Mabel gasped and awkwardly swam towards the guard. “Did these humans both have yellow hair?”

The guard scratched his chin, gazing upwards. “Yes, I believe so.”

She shared a look with her brother, whose eyes were wide. It’s Bill and Pacifica. It has to be. Sheesh, they work fast. She turned to Mermando. “It’s okay, we know those people. They must be here for us.”

Mermando nodded. “I see. It is about time you were leaving now, regardless.”

The guard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Your Highness?”

He was silenced with a hard look.

Dipper drew up next to his sister. “So you have everything you need?”

“Yup yup. I’ll explain it all on the way. Uh, Mermando? Do we have to worry about … this?” She rubbed the itchy scales on her neck.

Mermando chuckled. “You needn’t worry; the spell will be broken the moment you break for air.”

“Good. Alrighty then, let’s—”

“Mabel?”

Mabel closed her mouth. Mermando stared at her with pleading eyes. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “We won’t let you down, bro.”

Mermando nodded and turned to Dipper. “It was good seeing you again, my friend, despite everything.”

“Yeah.” Dipper frowned, rubbing the back of his head. “Maybe next time just send an invitation, man.”

Mermando smiled, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Agreed. Guardsman?” The guard straightened up. “Escort these two to the surface. Make sure they reach their destination safely.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Mabel allowed herself one last lingering look at the palace before taking hold of the guardsman’s extended arm.  _It’s a shame. If I had a tail I really wouldn’t mind living here._ She glanced at Mermando and felt a familiar regret she hadn’t experienced in a long time. But there was no use dwelling on such things.

She raised her hand in farewell. “See you later. I’ll send you a bottle message, kay?”

“I eagerly await. Good luck.”

With Dipper and Mabel secure, the guardsman starting swimming upwards, moving fast. When Mabel felt confident she wouldn’t lose her grip, she turned over to her brother. “Oh man, just wait until you hear this, bro-bro …”

…

“For the lasttime, Bill, you are notgetting in the sub.”

“For the last time, Blondie, like hellyou’re going in without me.”

Pacifica groaned.  _I’m not a bad person, dammit. I don’t deserve this. He’s going to make a murderer out of me_. “There’s only enough room for one person, Bill. Count it: One. I will not have this argument with you.”

But he kept talking, and Pacifica drowned the white noise out. She walked the length of the center console, tapping in the input controls to lower the  _Titan_  into the sea. “Look, I’ll need you to stay here to work the controls anyway.”

“Really?Working the controls?” Bill snorted. “Sure. Look, toots, I can drive a submarine, but I don’t know the first thing about this metal brick of a boat. Why don’t you stay behind—”

“I am not having this argument—”

“Well I am, and I’m going to win.”

Pacifica dragged a hand across her face. Maybe something more diplomatic might be effective.“Listen. Bill. I know you’re scared. I know you’re worried about them—”

“Oh, don’t you try to reasonwith me, Northwest. I’ve occupied spaces beyond reason. I know what really matters here. It isn’t logic, it isn’t rationality, it’s me being there when we pick up those kids. So shut up and let’s get on the submarine.”

With that, her patience snapped. “Alright, you know what—”

“Um. Guys?”

She stared wide-eyed at Bill, thinking the sound had come from him. Then she heard a cough from the water. They both charged towards the side of the boat.

The twins were floating there in the middle of the ocean, breathing heavily and looking haggard. A third man floated with them, appearing in significantly better shape. He turned to Dipper and smiled.

“Thanks again for finding my penny, bro. Catch you later.” He ducked back into the water.

“Uh.” Pacifica blinked. “Is he going to be alright?”

“Oh, he’ll be fine.” Mabel waved the question away and then began swimming towards the boat. “Now, help us up. My arms are killing me.”

“I’m never going swimming again,” Dipper said, joining her.

“Uh, right. Yeah, let me just lower the ladder.” Shaking herself, Pacifica glanced over at Bill. His mouth opened and closed and his eye was wide. If she didn’t know any better, she would say he was on the verge of collapsing.

Retrieving the ladder from the cupboard, she tossed it over the edge and held it in place as the twins clamored up, bringing half of the ocean into the boat with them.

Mabel shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “O-oh boy, oh man. A-air is really overrated.”

“How d-did you find us?” Dipper asked, shivering just as badly.

Pacifica got a pair of towels and handed it to them. “Umm, well …” She glanced over at Bill, who was still staring with a wide eye, wringing the pines hat in his hands. “Bill was the one who found you. He, um, went into the Mindscape place to locate you.”

“The Mindscape?” Mabel said, her eyes widening. She whirled towards Bill. “I thought it was too dangerous for you to go in there.”

Mabel’s voice seemed to break Bill out of his trance. He swallowed, averting his gaze. “It wasn’t that dangerous. I was only in there for a second.”

Pacifica remembered when Bill had been unconscious and for one terrifying second stopped breathing. It was probably better to keep that to herself.

Dipper was anxiously looking between the two of them. “So, does that mean Pacifica knows?”

“Yeah,” Pacifica said. “And you can explain everythingto me, us, later. Right now …” She bit her lip, feeling tears prick her eyes. “Can we please just have a group hug first?”

The twins blinked, and then looked at each other. Then, they smiled tiredly. Mabel laughed. “Yeah, I think I could use one of those, too.”

Pacifica drew the two wet bodies into the tightest hug she could manage. Even if their clothes were soaked, it was worth have the two close to her again after having agonized for hours.  _But they’re here now. They’re here and they’re safe. Thank God, they’re safe._

She looked over at Bill, who had yet to move from his position. His expression reminded her of a child watching a family eat a warm dinner through a frozen window. Even though he was rude, untrustworthy, and a pain in her ass, she knew that the thought of losing the twins had terrified him, too. That had to count for something, right?

She stared at him until he met her gaze and when he did, she beckoned him over with her head. For a moment, his upper lip curled, but the look fell away. He seemed too tired for that. He stepped forward. Mabel readjusted her arms, pulling him into the hug with a smile. He choked but quickly settled down.

They stood there in silence, basking in the warmth of the hot sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fanart! Because you guys are amazing~ :D
> 
> [[fartnpoopeye]](http://fartnpoopeye.tumblr.com/post/131096618183/defining-bill-cipher-a-tale-of-crush-my-heart-to) Chapter 8, Bill alone. I love the way he's drawn here, just perfectly hunched over and defeated. Such detail! Such emotion! I love it! ^w^
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	10. Pacifica Northwest, the New Age Guru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper and Mabel struggle to locate the Queen while Pacifica and Bill struggle to work out their issues.

The four of them broke away from the hug. Pacifica tried to rub the tears from her eyes without being too obvious. “I’ll set a course for the beach house. You guys can sit wherever; you look exhausted.” 

The twins nodded. Mabel wrapped her towel tighter around herself and sat down on the floor with a large sigh, closing her eyes. Dipper was about to follow suit but was stopped when Bill approached him. Bill took a deep breath. Then, with a small, hopeful smile, he held out the creased pine tree hat. Dipper drew his eyebrows together, running a hand through his soaking hair. He took the hat and put it on, sinking down on the floor next to his sister. He said nothing. Bill’s little smile fell away. 

Pacifica watched him return to the co-captain’s chair, looking more miserable and tired than she’s ever seen. Frankly, it was hard to watch. But she would worry about mending relationships later. Right now, there was a mystery to solve. Once she inputted their destination into the GPS, she swiveled around in her chair, resting her hands in her lap and sitting up straight.  

“Okay, okay. I need you to explain _everything_. Like, Bill said you were in _Atlantis. What_ the _fuck_ , guys?”

Despite must being exhausted, an energetic smile creased Mabel’s lips. “Oh man, it was  _incredible_. I mean, it started out kind of sucky, because we got kidnapped a bit.” 

Pacifica frowned, reflecting on her earlier panic and despair. “Yeah, Bill told me how you were dragged under.” She then continued in an accusatory tone, “You guys should have woken me up. I could have helped if I was there.” 

“You probably would have just gotten caught, too,” Dipper said. Pacifica narrowed her eyes and looked away, resisting the urge to disagree. Now wasn’t a good time to argue; everyone’s had a long day. 

Mabel continued with her story. She talked about the prison and the palace, and about Mermando and his son. Pacifica had never met Mermando, but heard good things about him from Mabel over years of bottle correspondence. But when Mabel told her the nature of the kidnappings and who was responsible, her opinion of him quickly soured.

After Mabel finished explaining the hostage situation, about Mermando’s demands, Pacifica sat back. The gears in her head spun with the new information. The victims were alive, as Pacifica had hoped, but to see them returned safely, the three of them ( _possibly four of them_ ) would need to find this Queen and, if she’s still alive, rescue her. But where should they even begin?  

“The guard said that the Queen had been swimming with an entourage near the coast when she was caught in a net,” Mabel said. “They hoisted her up and nobody’s seen her since.” 

“Was there anything distinct about the ship?” Pacifica asked. “Any logos? Markings? Were the crewmen wearing any funny hats?” 

Dipper shook his head. “If there were, the guards didn’t notice."

"So we have pretty much nothing to work with." Pacifica sighed, thoughts moving a million miles a minute. "Our best bet is to go down to the docks and ask around, see if anybody knows anything. You don’t see manatees around here very often. If someone was bringing one in, they were bound to have been noticed.”

“That’s not a bad idea.” Mabel brought a finger to her chin, ‘ _hmm_ ’-ing.  

The three of them fell into silence, trying to figure out their huge problem. Pacifica smoothed out her skirt, a habit she’d been meaning to break. Next to her, Bill swiveled back and forth in his chair, using his foot to push himself.  _Bill … Bill found Dipper and Mabel. Maybe he can find the manatee the same way?_  

“I think I have an idea,” she said. “What if we have Bill go into the Mindscape again? He was able to track you guys down in a couple of seconds, after all.” Smiling, she added, “I wouldn’t have been able to find you guys without him. He was incredibly helpful.” 

Mabel brightened and Dipper looked up, visibly considering it. Bill became tense. 

“That’s not a bad idea at all,” Mabel said. “Bill! Bill?” 

She thought singing Bill’s praises might make a nice gesture. But judging by Bill’s expression, he felt different. She narrowed her eyes. “What?” 

“ _I-_  You just—” Bill snarled and crossed his arms, turning away from the trio. “No.” 

“Oh, what? Seriously?” Mabel pouted in disappointment. “But it’s such a good idea! I thought you said the Mindscape wasn’t dangerous anymore.” 

Bill huffed but didn’t seem able to come up with a retort. He shot another lethal glare at Pacifica before turning away again. “That doesn’t mean doing …  _that_ _…_ is easy.” 

“You did it for us,” Dipper said, eyes narrowed. His tone was reproachful. “Why can’t you do it again? If there’s a way you can help us, you should do it.” 

Bill’s eye snapped over to Dipper, and his expression darkened with anger. “ _Sure!_  The two people I’m dependent on to function versus some fat sea cow. That’s the  _exact_ same level of priority.” 

If Pacifica’s surprise was uncalled for, at least she wasn’t alone. Dipper’s eyebrows had crawled up his forehead and Mabel winced. She held out her hands. “Bill—” 

“It  _is_ a priority,” Dipper snapped. “There are people down there who are being held hostage. They can’t go home until  _we_ save them—” 

“Look at me, Pine Tree. Does it look like I care? I don’t. I don’t care. It’s not worth the risk. I don’t need those people. You don’t either. They can spend the rest of their lives down there and we’ll all be better off.”

Shooting her one last glare, Bill settled back down in his seat, crossing his arms and looking downright stormy. He seemed to be done with the conversation. Pacifica realized he must think she was trying to make him look bad.  _Shit._  

She rested her chin on her fist. She remembered choking Bill so he could find Dipper and Mabel. _He’s just afraid. Maybe if he could use his powers without having to risk suffocation, he might be more willing.  He can’t do it when he’s conscious, but we can’t rely on knocking him out or getting him to sleep._ She put her head down and rubbed her temple. _It might work if he…_

She cleared her throat. ““Bill, if there was a chance I could teach you to use your power more safely, would you change your mind?”

Bill snorted derisively, not even looking over at her. “And what makes you think a br—” He stopped and glanced over at where the twins sat. He coughed, and turned back to the ocean. “What makes you think  _you_ can help me?” 

“Well, it seems like what you’re doing when you lose consciousness is some kind of astral projection. I can teach you some basics of meditation. Using an altered state of consciousness instead of total unconsciousness would make your power less risky, if it works. It would be easier, too. So what do you say? It couldn’t hurt.”

Even though it looked like he wanted to pitch an argument, Bill couldn’t come up with a retort. He continued to sit there, grinding his teeth together. Pacifica kissed her teeth with frustration, trying to sound more urgent. “Come  _on_ , man, don’t you want to help Dipper and Mabel?” An idea struck her. “What if they were to get in trouble again and there’s no one around to help you wake up? What then, huh?” 

That seemed to get through to him. His shoulders tensed. He glared down at his lap, some of the stubborn creases leaving his face. “Why can’t you figure out your own problems?” he mumbled, though with less conviction from earlier.  

Pacifica could feel victory within her grasp.  _Just gotta push a few more buttons …_ She snorted, crossed her arms, and spun her chair around. “Fine. If you can’t do it, I guess you can’t do it. No hard feelings, though. I’m sure we can figure this out without your help.” 

She could  _feel_ him turn and train a furious scowl towards her. “Don’t you try to use reverse psychology on  _me_ , Blondie, I  _invented_ reverse psychology in this dimension.” 

She had to bite back a smirk. “So you’re saying you can’t do it?” 

“ _I never said that_.” 

“Sooo …?” 

Spluttering with indignation, Bill huffed and mirrored Pacifica’s pose, crossing his arms and turning away. Suddenly, Mabel groaned, pushing herself up onto her feet. 

“ _Please_  Bill? We could  _really_ use your help with this.” Without much prompting, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rubbed her cheek onto his hair. He stiffened. “I promise we won’t ask  _anything_ from you for the rest of the trip. I’ll even make you some angel cake when we get back. With strawberries and homemade whipped cream and everything.” 

“You won’t have to wash dishes for a week if you do this for us,” Dipper offered from his place on the floor. “Sound good?” Bill glanced over at him, expression unreadable. Pacifica knew the moment she won when he released a long, slow sigh. He dropped his head, massaging the bridge of his nose. 

“Fine.  _Fine._ I’ll give the stupid meditation a shot. But if it doesn’t work, don’t blame me, all right? As far as I know, this whole Mindscape has been one giant fluke after another.  _Also_ ,” he added, holding out a hand, “make the dishes thing to a month. And I want spaghetti the day we get home.” 

“ _Deal_ ,” Mabel said before Dipper could say anything. She took Bill’s hand and shook it forcibly, before wrapping Bill in a fierce hug that made his eye bulge. He shook her off, annoyed, and ran a hand through his hair like an embarrassed cat. When Mabel sat back down, Dipper leaned next to her. 

“A  _month_?” he whispered, frowning. Mabel  _sshh_ ’d him and he backed off. Pacifica chuckled. 

 _Let the investigation begin._  

… 

Following Pacifica’s advice, Mabel and Dipper decided to interrogate fishermen at the local docks. They would have left immediately after changing clothes if Pacifica hadn’t forced them to sit down and eat a late breakfast of donuts and milk. Bill had been sprawled on the couch, nibbling on a marble glazed donut, nauseous from the two-hour boat ride. His head wouldn’t stop spinning. 

They left the beach house to Bill and Pacifica, despite her insisting they take a nap.

When he walked with the twins to the front door, Mabel had engulfed him in another hug. “Be good, you hear,” she said into his ear. 

He wondered if she would hug him this tightly if she knew everything from last night, everything he said. For a split second, he tightened his hold on her. He’d been so close to losing both of them … 

She pulled away, then squashed his face between her hands. “Good luck.” Patting his cheek, she backed off, and Bill shook himself. Dipper stood a few feet away, punching something into his phone, not paying attention. Bill coughed, and Dipper looked up. Bill tried to smirk, but he couldn’t hold onto it. 

“Have fun snooping around at the docks,” he said. “Try not to slip on any fish guts, alright?” 

Dipper’s brows furrowed, and he shuffled his feet as if he wanted to move further away, but kept stopping himself. Then he forced a smile onto his face that never reached his eyes. “Um, yeah. Uh …” The smile fell away. Dipper wet his lips, glancing from Bill to Mabel and back. “Um, you do realize your shirt is inside out, right?” 

 _What?_  

Bill looked down at his shirt. To his embarrassment, he could see the inner stitching. He felt heat crawl up his neck, made worse by Pacifica’s small giggle from the kitchen. “I meant to do that,” he said. 

Saying that only made Pacifica laugh harder, much to his mortification. Torn between attacking her and burying himself under a blanket, he snapped his jaw shut. Mabel took pity on him and began herding her brother towards the door. 

“Good luck you two! We’ll try and ferret out as much info as we can.” She all but kicked Dipper out and closed the door behind her. Pacifica drew up next to him, making a small noise of sympathy. 

“He is  _so_ mad at you,” she said from the corner of her mouth, seeming amused. Bill sucked an angry breath through his teeth, reminding himself why assaulting her was a  _bad_ idea. _It won't win me any favors, I can tell you that._ He walked over to the front window, nudging the blinds open. The twins were already at the end of the driveway. He watched as they climbed into their car, started it up, and drove down the street, craning his neck as they passed the hill and vanished from sight. 

He wished they wouldn’t go. The fear that they wouldn’t come back had flared into something cripplingly potent now that he had had a taste of that terror.  _What if they get into a car accident? Humans die that way all the time. Or they get mugged? Or they really_ do  _slip and break their necks or something? Or a giant meteor comes and—_  

“Oh,  _Christ_ , get away from the window, would you? They’re going to be fine.” 

Bill rolled his eye, but otherwise did as told. Pacifica was shaking her head, staring at him with a mix of pity and exasperation.

“I don’t remember asking for your input. I’ll look out _whatever_ I want for as _long_ as want, Blondie.”

Pacifica tightened her lips in a terse smile and began walking down the hallway. “You know, you remind me of this old dog my mother had,” she said, her voice echoing. “I mean, he didn’t give two shits about my mom, our head butler was the one who walked and fed him. But every time Jervis stepped out of the house, that dog would not stop staring out the window until he came back. It was the craziest thing.” 

Bill took the opportunity to remove his shirt and put it back on, outside in and facing forward. He was determined not to embarrass himself in front of the woman again. “Thank you, for that critically important, life-changing revelation, Blondie. Truly, I wouldn’t have been able to go on without knowing that.” 

“I bet you if I offered you a million dollars to go 24 hours without being a dick, you couldn’t do it.” 

“Um, last I checked, you’re pretty much broke thanks to this fancy art show of yours. I’d be a sucker to take a bet like that.” 

“Hey, now that’s only a minor setback.” Pacifica returned to the main room, holding two rolled up mats under her arm. She was smirking at him. Bill’s mood plummeted further at the thought of what those mats entailed. “But this isn’t about me. This is about  _you_ and  _your_ issues.” 

Bill snorted in disbelief. “ _My_ issues? Please, I could write a book about  _your_ issues that would put  _Marquis de Sade_ to shame.” 

Pacifica quirked a brow, but that stupid smirk remained. “Put a pin in it, Cipher. Now follow me. It’s time to teach you how to relax.” 

Biting back a scathing comment about just where she should stick that pin, Bill followed her out towards the back patio and down the steps leading to the beach. He dragged his feet the whole way, daydreaming half-baked schemes that could get him out of this triteness.  _No, no,_ he mentally sighed.  _Shooting Star promised me angel cake if I did this and Pine Tree … well, one session._ _I just need_ _to say that I tried, right? Even if it’s a complete waste of time, nobody can blame me if I at least try._  

Pacifica rolled out the two mats side by side. “ _So,_ ” she turned towards him, brimming with poorly contained excitement. “I was thinking we could start with a few yoga poses. Then we’ll meditate for a few minutes, maybe twenty, and then we can go for a run.” 

“ _Running?_ ” Bill slumped his shoulders. “You’ve  _got_ to be kidding me.” 

“What? It’s just my morning routine. Come  _on_ , it’ll be fun.” Her eyes sparkled, but Bill wasn’t swayed.

“You said I just needed to try out meditating. What is  _running_  going to do to help me?” 

Pacifica scoffed. “Hey, you could stand to learn good exercising habits. Like, do you even  _know_ what they put into your food these days?” 

“I know more than you, princess. About everything. That's why …” He held up a hand. “Look. This is getting us nowhere. I'm not here to run laps and bicker. Just teach me your ‘meditation basics’ and we'll see what that does, alright?”

Pacifica sighed but otherwise seemed to concede. “Alright, alright, fine. We’ll just do the yoga and meditation. Take off your shoes and get on the mat.” 

Bill followed the instructions, taking the mat left of Pacifica. She nodded. “Good. Now, follow me lead. Shake out your body, try and relax. I want you to take deep, slow breaths.  _Inhale …_ ” Closing her eyes, she took a long, even breath, moving into a pose where she held her arms straight over her head, fingertips to the sky, “And  _exhale_. Can you do that?” 

Sneering, Bill shook out his shoulders. He took a breath like she said and copied her pose. She smiled. “Good! This one’s the Mountain Pose. Now we do another one. Follow my lead.” 

This time, taking another breath, she spread her feet, bending her left knee and extending her arms, palms facing down. Bill copied her again, taking care to turn his left foot out like she did.  

She nodded and smiled. He rolled his eye, which she ignored. “Good. That’s Warrior’s Pose. Next.” 

She instructed him through a few more poses which Bill mimicked with relative ease.  _Well, this isn’t so bad, I guess._  But soon, she began leading him through more rigorous poses. One required him to stand on one leg with arms raised. Pacifica remained firmly planted while he wobbled and toppled over twice. The poses became increasingly difficult. Pacifica gracefully flowed through the stances while he struggled and fell over. It got to the point where he was beginning to think she orchestrated this whole meditation scheme just to show off.

His frustrations only mounted with his teacher, who seemed more interested in telling him the names of the stances than actual teaching.  

“So you just take your foot and …  _there_.” Grasping her right foot, she brought her leg up in a sweep behind her back, stretching it until the tip of her toes almost brushed the back of her head. She extended her left arm, maintaining perfect balance. “See? Lord of the Dance. Give it a shot.” 

“Yes. ‘ _There_ ’. What a bunch of clear, concise instructions. I know  _exactly_ what I need to do to make my body as flexible as a  _worm._ ” 

Pacifica shot him a hard look, not even wobbling once. Bill hated her so much. 

“You gave your word.” 

“Bite me, Northwest.” 

“Would you just  _try?_ It’s not as hard as it looks, I promise.” 

 _Yeah, I bet._ Bill rolled his eye, but otherwise took a deep breath. He grabbed his right foot with his right hand, like she did, trying to remember how exactly she had swept it. The second he brought up his foot, he already began swaying and he flung out his left hand to balance himself. It failed, and he toppled over again. Pacifica groaned, and Bill felt the last thread of his patience snap. 

“This is  _ridiculous!_ ” 

“ _What?_ ” She straightened herself as Bill turned back towards the house. “Bill, get back here!” 

“ _No_. This whole thing is stupid and a waste of time. You think I honestly don’t have anything better to do that watch you parade your  _greatness_ in front of me?” 

“That’s  _not_ what this is. Bill!  _Hey!_ ” But he continued stomping away and Pacifica snapped, “Do you  _really_ want to disappoint Dipper and Mabel over this? Because of your  _self-esteem_ issues?” 

Even though every fiber in his being screamed at him to keep moving, he stopped. He loathed it, he loathed  _her_ , and he especially loathed himself, but she seemed to know exactly which buttons to press. In another life, he probably would have been impressed. Right now, it only infuriated him. 

He thought she’d be smirking as he turned around, happy that she managed to beat him _yet_ _again_. But she was frowning, thoughtfully chewing her bottom lip as he returned to his mat.  

“You have some serious anger issues,” she noted.

“That couldn’t possibly have anything to do with _you_ , right?”

Pacifica continued ruminating, staring at him long enough he became uncomfortable. Then, her eyes brightened as she had a sudden thought. “Does it feel different getting angry now than it did when you were … you know, _before_ becoming human?”

The oddity of the question was enough to snap Bill out of his anger. “ _What?_ ”

“Or rather, is feeling _any_ emotion different?” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him. Her eyes were trained towards the sky. “Happiness, sadness, fear, stress … The reason why humans feel that kind of stuff is because of hormones and junk. Dopamine, cortisol, norepinephrine, etcetera. Did you have that stuff before?”

Bill took a moment to mull over her words. It varied from dimension to dimension, but his type was mercifully spared from nonsense like hormones or brains in general. Sure, he _experienced_ anger, but it was always controlled, channeled. It was just an imitation. _But … humans can’t control things like that_. And as he thought about it, the anger he felt before as a dream demon was _nothing_ like the intense, visceral emotion he felt now.

Hormones. It was just another side effect of becoming human he had never considered, and he felt like an idiot Pacifica had figured it out before he did. He sneered at her. “Is there a particular reason you brought this up?”

“I’ll take that as a no.” She lifted a brow. “All I’m saying is that you could really benefit learning some self-control. I mean, it’s not all your fault. It’s not like anybody’s taught you anger management skills, right? But if you’re gonna stick with this whole humanity thing, keeping your emotions in check is probably one of the most important lessons you could learn.”

“This isn’t what we came here to do,” Bill snapped.

“Right … right. I think we’ve done enough yoga for today,” she said in a careful voice. Bill huffed.  _I’ll say._ She gestured that he sit down. Once he did, reluctantly so, she followed suit, forming a full lotus position.  

God _dammit_ , but did he hate her. 

“Alright …” Pacifica lowered her voice, almost as if she were humming. “Close your eyes … straighten your back. Take a deep breath,” she paused, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth.  

For a moment, Bill only sat there and watched her. Then, he said, “This isn’t going to work.” 

Pacifica stiffened and then slumped with a sigh. “Not with that attitude,” she mumbled. “Would you just trust me on this? I trusted you, didn’t I?” 

“That was …” Bill closed his mouth. He fished for the words but they wouldn’t come. Releasing a slow, frustrated sigh, he straightened his back, placing his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Right. Now what?” 

“Alright. What I’m about to show you is called _Transcendental Meditation_. It’s a simple, easy, effortless technique, yet extremely profound, that will allow you to ‘dive within’ and experience subtle levels of mind and intellect, and ‘transcend’ to experience the ocean of pure consciousness that lies within and beyond us all.”

 _What the …?_ Bill twisted his lips downwards but staved off the urge to huff or sneer. _Just let her talk; maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll get sick of her own voice, too._

“Okay,” she continued after a moment. “Now start relaxing your body. Start with your toes … and move up your legs … relax your shoulders … relax your eyes …” 

Bill didn’t know what she meant by ‘relaxing his eyes’, but he continued to focus on his breathing like she said. He found that if he did focus on an individual body part, like his jaw or his tongue, and he imagined his breath flowing through, it did become less tense. Eventually, Pacifica guided him through the entire body. They sat there for a while, breathing. All Bill could hear was the ocean’s waves and his own heartbeat. 

After a few moments, Pacifica broke the silence, exhaling deep, and slow. “Now, I want you to slowly start to let go. Quiet all the distracting stresses and concerns in your head, and let your mind and your imagination just experience themselves. Forget yourself. Follow every road your mind leads you down right to the end. Never stop and never let anything worldly drag you back.”

Bill crinkled his eye, resisting the urge to open it. Bill Cipher had been many things when he was a demon, but  _quiet_ was not one of them. His mind was always moving a million miles a minute, and becoming a human did little to change that. _Ugh, this is ri—_ He killed that thought before it had time to finish.  _Can’t blame me if_ _I at least_ _tried, can’t blame me if I at least try …_   

 _How hard can it be?_  

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his chest vibrating. He did as Pacifica told him, trying to let go of his thoughts. He found it easier if he imagined a small, white dot in his mind and focused on nothing else. He imagined a crackly, static noise in his ears, trying to smother with it the sound of the waves.

His greatest hurdle was letting go of his anxiety concerning Dipper. It had taken up such a huge portion of his thoughts for so long. He fell into his mind, a place where he used to feel the safest. Nowadays, it felt the most vulnerable. It had become much smaller lately, as if though there were a giant, black cover concealing something from him. It became less and less noticeable as time when on, and soon he feared as if he would forget about it completely. It deeply unsettled him. 

He sunk further and further into himself. He tried to block out his pain and confusion, and the exhaustion that plagued him. Further and further and  _further_ until he had fallen so deeply he could no longer feel his body.

He opened his eye. The beach was gone. There, in front of him, stood the Mystery Shack, colorless. An immense black pyramid pierced its roof and sides. The pyramid, not with eyes but with its presence, gazed down at him and everything at once. 

Bill choked on a gasp and all at once, the trance broke. He was back on the beach. The sound of the waves had gentled to a distant rumble. His heart was pounding, and he could feel Pacifica’s probing stare. 

“Whoa. You look …” She narrowed her eyes, and then her face brightened with excitement. “Oh my god, it  _worked,_ didn’t it?” She took his silence as a confirmation, shifting onto her knees. “That’s  _incredible!_ Wow, I can’t believe you were able to pick it up so quickly …” she added under her breath, somewhat sulkily.  

Bill had only just then collected himself.  _No. No, no, no, this wasn’t supposed to_ work  _…_  His mouth had gone dry and his limbs felt like jelly. Still, he was able to stumble onto shaky legs and staggered towards the beach house, not sure where he planned to run. 

“Wha- Hey, where are you going?”

“Just  _shut up!_ ” 

She took his advice and remained silent. A stringent buzzing rang in his ears as he ran onto the back porch and into the house. He made it as far as the couch before he fell face first onto the cushions. He hadn’t realized how hard he had been shaking, and he cocooned himself in the blankets. It did little to help. Everything was too confusing. The prospect of  _purposefully_  venturing back into the Mindscape  _again_  …  

In that moment, now more than ever, he desperately wished to have Dipper at his side. To hear his steady breathing and heartbeat. To feel  _safe._

He reached for his travel pack, digging around in the front pocket. He pulled out the sleek black cell phone that Dipper had given him and scrolled to the only two personal contacts he had. His thumb hovered over the  _Pine Tree_ tab.  

“Okay. Okay …” He took a deep breath, resting his forehead against the phone. “You can do this … okay …” He dialed the contact and waited as the phone rang in his ear. 

… 

“Sir,  _please_ , this will only take a minute—” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, boy, I don’t have many minutes to spare.” 

Mabel sighed, watching as her brother attempted to convince the old fishermen to answer a few questions. The man, who seemed to be having a bad day, had very little interest in helping them with their investigation. But Dipper was persistent. 

“Sir, this is  _extremely_ important. People’s lives are at stake!” 

The man waved him off, lugging a particularly large net over his shoulder as he bullied his way down the busy dock. There was a large crowd that day, something that Dipper and Mabel hadn’t expected, which seemed contribute to everybody’s short temper.  

“Who even are you kids?” the man asked a moment later. “You can’t possibly be with the police, can you? Too baby-faced.” 

Dipper bristled. “ _No_ , we’re not with the police. This is a personal investigation.” 

“ _Right_ , right …” Releasing a deep sigh, the old man stopped and turned towards them. “Make it quick. The sooner you buzzards are off my back, the better.” 

Brightening, Dipper reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook. Just as he was flipping to the correct page, a loud ringtone blared from his pocket. Mabel recognized the  _Ghost Harassers!_ theme song. As Dipper pulled out the phone, the man made a nasty face. 

“I don’t have time for this, son.” 

Sighing, Mabel snatched the phone from her brother’s hand. “I’ll take it,” she said. Dipper shot her a grateful look, and he turned to the old man.  

“A few weeks ago, did you happen to see anyone carting around any live manatee …?” 

As Dipper began his interrogation, Mabel walked off towards a less noisy side of the pier. She unlocked the phone, brought it to her ear, and said, “Hello?” 

A loud sigh answered, as if the recipient had been holding a deep breath. “ _Oh. Hey, Star._ ” Mabel understood immediately what had happened and pursed her lips, amused. 

“Why, Bill, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were disappointed it’s me.” 

“ _Uh, no! Not at all! I, um, just wanted to see how things were going …_ ” 

“Mmhmm. Okay. How’s things with Pacifica? She hasn’t made her exercise with you, has she? Or tried her icky kale smoothies?” 

“ _Uh, ah … no kale, yet, I guess. Um, yeah, things are, uh … fine …_ ” 

“Fine, huh?” He sounded as if he had a gun pressed against his head at that moment. “Well, hang in there, we’ll be back soon enough. Fend her off until then, alright? I know she gets enthusiastic when it comes to converting people to her rabbit food.” She heard a small chuckle then, and smiled. Poor guy had been looking so miserable lately, it felt nice to cheer him up a bit.

Just then, she saw the old man leave and Dipper shoving his notebook back in his pocket. “One sec,” she said to the receiver and walked back towards her brother. She held out the phone. “It’s for you, bro.” 

He quirked a brow. Taking the phone, he put it against his ear. “Hello?” After a moment, he narrowed his eyes. “ _Hello?_ ” He pulled the phone away and looked at the screen, before tucking it away. “I guess they hung up. Who was it?” 

 _Ah, jeez, really?_ Mabel sighed. “Bill.” 

Dipper’s expression instantly soured. “Right.” 

 _Jesus, why doesn’t anybody know how to communicate around here?_ Mabel rolled her eyes. She figured they’ve spent enough time beating around the bush. “So. You ready to talk, yet?” 

Her brother pulled a face. “Not really.” He started walking away, stuffing his hands in his pockets. It screamed “Don’t bother me”, but Mabel wasn’t dissuaded. She clucked her tongue, drawing up next to her sourpuss of a brother and cutting right to the chase. 

“What happened between you and Bill last night?” 

“Nothing.  _Nothing_ happened. Well, not really …” 

Mabel made a stern noise. Dipper sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  

“Okay, yeah, something happened. Bill was being a jerk. So what? He  _is_ a jerk, right?” 

“Well, yeah. But there are varying levels of jerkage, you know. What exactly did he do?” 

“He … said something to Pacifica.” 

“Something?” 

“Well,” Dipper sighed again, getting clearly frustrated. “Remember dinner last night? When Pacifica was acting really weird and left? Bill must have said something to her when we ducked out of the room.” 

“What did he say?” 

“I … I don’t know. Pacifica wouldn’t tell me when I asked.” The thought seemed to really upset him. Mabel tsked. 

“So you confronted him then?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I told him to lay off Pacifica’s case or else I’d … we’d …” Now, Dipper’s expression tinged with regret. He frowned, looking away. “I may have gone a bit too far. But he’d been hostile to Pacifica all day yesterday, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Dipper, Pacifica is a big girl. Whatever it was Bill did, I’m sure she could handle it.” Then, in a lower voice, she added, “I know how protective you get over her.” 

Dipper snorted. “Bill called it a ‘hero-complex’.” 

 _Sounds like Bill knows what’s up._ But she kept that to herself. “So you never stopped to ask yourself why Bill was acting that way.” 

“Did I really  _need_ to?” Dipper snapped. By then, they had reached the end of the pier, and Mabel stood with shoulders squared. There was nowhere for him to duck out now. “Bill’s a jerk! Plain and simple. He likes messing with people for kicks. Why should anyone have to put up with it?” 

But Mabel wasn’t buying it. She reflected on Bill’s somber disposition yesterday. It wasn’t the kind of air she would expect of someone being a jerk for kicks. Something had weighed heavily on his mind.  _I should have pushed him. I should have gotten him to open up._  

She clapped her hands on her brother’s shoulders. “Bro-bro, I’m saying this because I love you. You need to give people the benefit of the doubt. Communicate with them! Bill may be a jerk, but he’s changed since moving in with us. Remember the rougarus?” 

The way Dipper’s jaw clenched and he looked away signified that he did.  

“All I’m saying is that there has to be a reason why Bill has been acting so weird lately,” she said, letting go of him. “And I could be completely wrong! Maybe he is just being a jerk for the sake of it. But you won’t know for sure until you stop being so angry and talk to him.  _Communicate._ You get it?” 

For a moment, Dipper rebelliously held her stare as if he were about to protest. Mabel didn’t blink. In the end, he broke eye contact, rubbing his nose and looking mutinous, but compliant. “Alright.  _Okay_. If you think it’ll help …” 

“I really do.” 

“Fine.” He offered her a tight, but not unkind, smile. “I’ll talk to him later today and … try to figure out what’s bothering him.”  

Mabel grinned, patting him on the shoulder. “Excellent. Now, where were we …?” 

“I think somewhere between getting trampled by smelly old fishermen and being yelled at by smelly old fishermen.” 

“ _Right._ Back to business, then. Her Majesty isn’t going to find herself, after all.” 

Dipper smiled again, this time without tension. Grabbing the sleeve of her sweater, he led the two of them back into the fray, bracing himself for Interrogations Round 2. 

… 

An hour of tracking down dock workers and fisherman left the twins with nothing.  _Less_ than nothing, if their sore feet and mounting frustration were to be considered. This wasn’t Mabel’s first investigation and she had had less to go on before. But it had been a long time since she and her brother had launched a real investigation, and she was out of practice. The fact that four lives (five, including Her Majesty) were at stake only made it worse. 

All they needed was a lead. But the way things were going, it might just be easier to find a needle in a football field full of hay. 

“We need to move on,” Dipper said to her after their 24th interviewee kindly told them to piss off. “There’s another collection of fishing docks a few miles down the highway. We might have better luck there.” 

Mabel frowned, and then shook her head. “The coastal area where the guard said she was captured was near here. She  _had_ to have passed through at some point.” 

“If she did, nobody saw her, and if they did see her, they didn’t care enough to remember. Or they don’t feel like telling us about it.” Dipper shrugged, eyebrows drawn together. She wished she felt as determined as he looked. “You think an 800lbs manatee would draw attention, but I guess not.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I  _mean_ , that we’ve been looking all day and—” Dipper paused, and looked up when he realized that Mabel hadn’t spoken. He whirled around to a scrawny, brown-haired teenage boy, who was standing a few feet away lugging a box of packaged chum. Dipper’s eyes went wide. “Who the Hell are you?” 

“Oh! Uh, sorry.” The boy put down the box, wiping his gloved hands on a greasy looking apron. “I was kind of eavesdropping a bit. My name is Francis.” He held out his hand, smiling timidly. Dipper stared at the hand, blatantly suspicious. Mabel rolled her eyes and then shouldered Dipper aside, taking the boy’s hand. 

“I’m Mabel, and this is my brother, Dipper. Don’t mind him, we’ve had kind of a long day.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get you. Don’t worry about it.” Francis smiled again, looking weary, and Mabel knew he understood perfectly. “So, what were you saying about a manatee?” 

“We’re looking for one,” Mabel said. “We’ve gotten a report that one’s been taken from a coastal area nearby.” 

“Really?” Francis quirked a brow. “Are you two detectives or something?” 

“It’s a personal investigation,” Dipper said, repeating his words from earlier. “It’d really help if you knew anything about it.” 

Francis nodded. “Yeah … I’m pretty sure I saw one the other day. I couldn’t tell if it was real or not, though. It was wearing a, uh, I think it was a pink dress. I’m  _pretty_ sure it was real …” His expression became puzzled. Mabel shared an excited glance with her brother. 

 _She’s alive! I have to let Mermando know ASAP._  

“Do you know who it was that had her?” Dipper asked, scribbling in his notebook. Francis scrunched up his nose for a moment, before shaking his head. 

“I think … I saw some green text on the boat, but I couldn’t really make out what it said. I only saw it for a split second anyway before getting back to work. I hadn’t seen it since.” 

A part of Mabel’s hope withered away, but she remained steadfastly determined.  _Manati had been here. All we have to do is find out where she went next. With Bill’s help, we can find her for sure!_ She punched the boy’s arm without thinking, brimming with excitement. “Thanks, bro. You have no idea how much this means to us. What’s your name again?” 

Rubbing his shoulder, Francis offered another small smile. “Francis. Francis O’Conner. And no problem, I’m happy to help. I hope you can find what you’re looking for.” 

 _I hope so too_ ,  _b_ _ecause if we don’t …_  She did away with the negative thoughts. Tapping her brother’s elbow, the three of them exchanged farewells. The twins walked down the dock.  

“We need to see which fishing companies use green text in their logo,” she said. Dipper nodded. 

With their hope renewed, they resumed their investigation full force. 

… 

After finishing up her stretches and meditation, Pacifica went on her morning jog. Usually, running relaxed her, and helped to clear her mind. But the further she went, the more she realized she didn’t have the heart for it today. Her mind was a jumble, so she decided to let it wander. Picking up a late breakfast parfait, she walked home, contemplating on the events of that day. 

 _Bill …_  

She groaned. What a mess. 

When she first heard that the twins would be bringing down a third, mysterious accomplice, she didn’t know what she had expected. It certainly hadn’t been a demon that had tormented the twins in childhood. And to think that she was now attempting to teach said demon meditation in order to jump into an alternate plane of existence so that they could track down a missing manatee queen …  _Has it really only been a day since they got here?_  

Taking a large bite of her parfait, Pacifica climbed up the steps leading to her house and opened the front door.  

Speaking of meditation … she  _knew_ that something had happened to him during their first session together. She saw it in his eyes, or rather, _eye._ There had been a strange combination of shock, incredulity … and  _fear._ In fact, the only reason she didn’t chase after he had scurried off was due to how frightened he looked.  

But what could an all-powerful demon have to be scared of, even if he was a human now? It was a bizarre question she had no way of answering, not without asking him outright. And he seemed determined to be difficult with her, so it’s not like that that would be an easy path to take. 

 _Still_. Whatever his hostility with her, whatever their issues are with each other, Pacifica promised Dipper and Mabel that she’d help Bill help them. And she wasn’t about to give up just because they didn’t like each other.  

As she passed through the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, she spotted Bill in the living room, crouched over the coffee table. Puzzled, she closed the refrigerator and crept over, craning her neck to get a better look. He was pouring over a ratty looking journal, though by the way he rhythmically stabbed the page with his pencil, he must have been having a difficult time summoning words. Pacifica could tell by his posture alone that he was wracked with exhaustion and frustration. 

 _Stubborn idiot. He should’ve given yoga more of a chance, I could’ve helped him relax._ Then again … she supposed he did have an unusually difficult time with a few poses. _I probably shouldn’t have rushed him either_ , she thought guilty. And his seeming unfaltering willpower to be angry with her didn’t help with that, she was sure. 

 _It is rather strange how hostile he is with me_ , she noted. Looking back, it felt like his aggression began before Pacifica had even said anything to him. She had said hello, he told her how he had his eye smashed out. And it only got worse from there.  _I don’t remember saying anything particularly scathing to him, not at first, anyway._  

The more she thought about it, the more she realized her and Bill had barely even talked to each other before he had lashed out at her during dinner. Pacifica knew she wasn’t always the nicest person in the world, and that some people didn’t care for Northwests on principle. But certainly she hadn’t done anything to deserve such a violent reaction in such a short time.  _So what caused him to get so uppity in the first place?_  

A memory floated into her mind. Earlier, when the four of them were on the boat, discussing plans. Bill had been sulkily keeping to himself for the most part. But then, Dipper had told him to square up and help, and Bill had snapped with anger. She remembered Dipper’s coldness when he had said goodbye before he and Mabel left for the docks; how Bill looked like her old sad dog. 

Pacifica thoughtfully stroked her chin.  _What had he said last night? That I’m trying to take away everything he has? He was referring to the twins. It makes sense,_ she thought sadly.  _No one else on Earth knows he exists, at least as a human._ She reflected on the way Bill had clung to Dipper’s beloved pine tree hat, the hope in his face when he had returned it, and the subsequent crushing disappointment at Dipper’s apathy. 

She shook her head. Whatever it was Bill was feeling, insecurity, jealousy, or something else, she felt that it had to do with Dipper.  

 _Maybe if he and Dipper work whatever this is out, Bill will feel more comfortable entering the Mindscape again?_ She’d have to remember to talk to him if Mabel hadn’t already. 

Just then, Bill looked up from his journal. He looked vaguely annoyed, and Pacifica stiffened, waiting for the derisive comment. Instead of saying anything, however, he returned to his writing, grumbling sulkily under his breath. Pacifica bit her lip, keeping to herself as she tried to peek over his shoulder. He responded with curling up over his book, and she sighed with disappointment. 

As she watched him write a curious thought struck her.  

“Bill, are you left handed?” 

Bill glanced over at her again as she sat down at the couch, and then looked down at the pencil clutched in his left hand. He looked back at her and shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I never thought about it.” 

“Huh.” Pacifica chewed her lip in thought.  _Well, that explains a bit_. “Hey, next time when you do yoga-  _If_ ,” she corrected quickly upon his irate glare, “ _If_ you decide to pick up yoga again. Try using your left hand whenever I would use my right. You know?” 

Bill looked at her as if he didn’t know, but she felt he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Uh-huh. Sure.” 

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, for Bill went back to crouching over his journal and tapping the paper. “So. What are you writing?” 

“Go away.” 

“Really? Just ‘Go away’? Not exactly engaging reading, I take it.” Pacifica smiled at her own lame joke, but Bill still wouldn’t look up at her. Moving to the floor adjacent to him, she sat down on her knees. “Either way, it looks like you’re having a difficult time with it.” 

“Maybe because you won’t stop bothering me.” 

 _Okay. Fair enough._ “I’m just trying to understand you, Bill, because I want us to get along, you know? I know we had a rough start, but—” 

“ _Understand_ me?” Bill snapped, looking up from his page. “What do you think this is, some kind of therapy session?” 

“Um, no—” Pacifica saw him reel back his arm and immediately knew what he was about to do. “Remember what I said about self-control!”

Bill froze, and then glared at her. But to her surprise, he lowered his arm. Instead of chucking the journal at her face, he slid it across the table.

“See that, Blondie?  _That_ is the culmination of a  _trillion_ years’ worth of knowledge. If a human mind were to even  _attempt_ to try and understand the function of my demonic form, their brain would short circuit.” 

She flipped it around, starting at the first page and skimming through from there. At first, the writing was in a language she didn’t understand, some kind of hieroglyphics. But after a few pages, she recognized English lettering. By the time she reached the end of the journal, it was written entirely in English. But that didn’t make it any easier to understand though that may have more to do with the terrible handwriting.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Pacifica said gently, skimming through the last few pages. “But you’re a human now too, right? Does the mind-frying thing not apply to you?” 

There was no response. When she looked up, Bill was staring at her, eye wide. Something told her he had let something slip. Furrowing her brows, she continued, “Like, doesn’t it give you a headache to try and remember this stuff? I imagine the human mind is more cramped than a, uh, whatever it was you were before.” 

Still no answer. Bill vaguely looked like he was about to be sick. Alarmed, Pacifica closed the journal and slid it back towards him. “But, um, I’m getting off track. Uh …” Now completely lost, Pacifica rose to her feet, trying to figure out how to salvage this conversation. “Would you … like a smoothie?” 

Bill blinked. Then, he asked, “Is it a kale smoothie?” 

“Umm, yeah, that’s the kind I usually drink. Want one?” 

Something approaching amusement flickered across his expression, but it was gone so fast she couldn’t be sure. “Nah, not in the mood.” 

Pacifica nodded. She lingered for just a second longer, however, thinking of the best way to phrase her next sentence. “You know … all that nature of the universe stuff sounds like a total headache to write. Why not, I don’t know … make a diary out of it?” 

“A what?” 

“You know, personal entries,” she said quickly. “How your day went, what you saw, how it made you feel. Maybe creative short stories? Free write, stuff like that. It’s great for organizing your head.” 

Bill didn’t look over at her. After a moment, he grunted, likely to signal his acknowledgment.  

 _It was just an idea, sheesh._  

As she made her way into the kitchen, she heard the clanking of the front door being opened. The twins shuffled in a second later, looking a mix of weary and energized. Dipper smiled. 

“Someone says they saw the Queen at the docks,” he said before she could even ask. Pacifica sighed with relief.  _So this isn’t going to be just a wild goose chase._ “A kid named Francis O’Conner saw a manatee in a pink dress; it has to be her.” 

“Francis said the boat had a green logo,” said Mabel. “We’re gonna research local fishing companies and see if anything matches.” 

“Which I am going to do right now.” Dipper’s eyes glanced over to the living room area. Seeming to be satisfied, he dashed off, leaving a frazzled Pacifica in his wake.  

“How’s your meditation plan coming along?” Mabel asked. Pacifica tried to keep her expression neutral, wondering how best to answer that question.  _Bill was definitely in the Mindscape, but if he’s too afraid …_   _I don’t want to raise their hopes._  

“We’re gonna give it another try tonight,” she said enigmatically, and then said a bit louder, “I’d say around 8 o’clock. That’s when I usually do my evening meditation anyway.” Hopefully, the demonic brat was listening and would take the hint. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. Having that kind of power would help loads, I’m positive. Okay, I’m going to start on an update for Mermando. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Without another word, she scurried down the hallway. A part of Pacifica wanted to call out to the twins and demand they take a proper nap, but she knew better than to try when they got like this. 

She looked over to where Dipper’s eyes had rested and spotted a tuft of blonde hair and a blue eye peeking over the top of the couch. He stared down the hallway for a moment, but when his eye caught Pacifica’s, he sneered and ducked away. 

Pacifica rolled her eyes and decided to leave it at that. After the hurricane that was the Pines’ twins, she suddenly felt the urge to be productive.  _Hmm. I suppose now’s a good time to finally phone that convention manager, God knows I’ve been meaning to do that._ Forgoing the prospect of her smoothie, Pacifica strode down the hallway towards her room, leaving the frustrating demon behind her. 

… 

The residents of the beach house remained locked in their respective activities for the rest of that afternoon until dinner. Mabel had loudly called everyone to the table. Dipper had been in the middle of pouring over his laptop when she had nearly broken his door down, insisting that the pizza was getting cold. 

With Pacifica on his left and Mabel directly across from him, Dipper, for his part, was having a ball. It had felt like ages since he was involved in a proper mystery, and now that they were making some progress, the table was abuzz with conversation. The only one who didn’t contribute was Bill, but even Dipper could see that that was a result of his exhaustion. Bill, next to Mabel, rested his head on his propped up hand, nodding off every few minutes. 

Pacifica had been in the middle of ranting about recent scandals with fishing companies tearing up hundreds of sea creatures in their fishing nets when a loud  _thunk_  made them all look over to their silent fourth party member. Bill’s arm had given out and his head had smacked hard on the glass table. With a strangled gasp, he jerked up to his feet so quickly his chair toppled over.  

The color had drained from his face and he was breathing heavily as if he had been chased. His eye darted wildly between the three of them and as lucidity slowly returned to his expression, so did the color, distinctly red. He dashed off before anyone could say anything, mumbling and rubbing his eye.  

Dipper’s mouth hung open, and if Mabel’s eyes widened any larger he was sure they would fall out. He had never seen Bill do that before, as the demon usually always found a way to curl up on his shoulder, his lap, his feet, or whatever if he was feeling tired, no matter Dipper’s protests.  _Is that what happens whenever he tries to sleep on his own?_  

He felt disturbed. 

“Um, is he okay?” Pacifica whispered. Dipper winced. 

“It’s, uh, kind of a long, weird story.” In truth, he hadn’t given it much thought when Bill hadn’t appeared last night to take up half of his bed. It’s clear now that Bill had given another go at sleeping without his self-appointed ‘security blanket’ at his side.  _I should have been more insistent that he learn to sleep without me as a crutch._

Mabel was looking at him pointedly. Just when he figured she was about to say something, a voice to his left said, 

“I think you should go talk to him, Dipper.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, he turned towards Pacifica. She was looking at him with a peculiar expression and didn’t break eye contact. “You too?”

Pacifica’s eyes flitted towards Mabel and her lips twitched upwards. But she looked back towards Dipper, expression earnest. “I mean, yeah. Don’t you think so? You talked to him after dinner last night, right? Whatever it was, I think it really got under his skin.” Something flickered in her eyes, and she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I think that’s one of the reasons he’s been having such a rough time with, uh, meditation.” 

“But, Pacifica, what he said to you—” 

“Thanks for sticking up for me, Dipper, but this isn’t about me anymore. There’s more going on here than just us right now.” She poked his arm, smiling softly. “Go talk to him. Try to make this better.” 

Unable to bear the weight of both Pacifica and Mabel’s expectant stares, he held up his hands in defeat. “Fine. Yeah, I’ll go talk to him.” Discarding his napkin, he rose to his feet and began walking towards the door to the back porch, where Bill had vanished.  

He opened the glass door. Night had fallen, moonlight clashing with the fluorescent lighting from inside. Bill was on the couch, his back to Dipper. He held his head in his hands, completely unaware of Dipper until he rounded the corner and cleared his throat.  

“Bill?” 

Bill froze. He peeked over at Dipper through a gap in his fingers. He looked exasperated and tired, a dangerous mix. But Dipper knew he couldn’t back out now, not without Pacifica and Mabel flaying him. 

“Can we talk?”  

Bill didn’t say anything, instead gesturing to the couch across from him. Usually, Dipper had to fight in order to get Bill to shut up. Now, his silence put him on edge. He took a seat nonetheless. Bill was staring down at his hands.  

“So …” Dipper took a deep breath.  _Let’s just get this over with._  “Why have you been so awful to Pacifica?” 

“Because she’s a rich tart who deserves it?” 

What little patience Dipper had snapped. _Well, that didn’t last too fucking long._ Expression darkening with anger, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Seriously? Do you  _have_ to be difficult? Now of all times? I’m trying to talk to you.” 

“I already talked. You weren’t listening.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“What I  _mean_ …” Bill worried his bottom lip, clenching his fists together until the skin on his knuckles went white. He said in a low voice, as if it hurt him to speak, “What I mean is that you’ve been ignoring me ever since Blondie called you on the phone.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened, and a few small puzzle pieces clicked into place. “Is … is that what this is all about? Really?  _Really?!_ ” A potent, white hot anger surged in his chest. His voice started climbing in pitch. “You made my best friend cry because I wasn’t  _paying enough attention_  to you? You- You’re really unbelievable, you know that?”  

Bill couldn’t make himself smaller if he tried. The sight didn’t slate Dipper’s fury in the slightest, fingers itching.  

“You’re so self-absorbed that you can’t stand to see someone else be the center of attention for a few measly days? I haven’t seen Pacifica in over a year and if you can’t stand to see us catching up—” 

“Come  _on_ , it’s  _not like that!_ ” Bill finally looked up from his hands, his expression so stricken that Dipper’s mouth clapped shut. Continuing in a wobbly voice, he said, “I just … I  _depend_  on you, Dipper. I can’t put it any other way. Where you and Mabel have someone else, I’ve got  _nothing_.” Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his mouth with a slightly trembling hand. “You want to talk to an old friend? Good. That’s great, kid. Me? I don’t have that option. My old friends aren’t corporeal.” Bill looked up again, his eye bright. “ _You_ are what I have now. You’re all I’ve got. When I don’t have you, I don’t have anything.” 

Dipper then leaned back, absorbing the information. Mabel had been right. There was something else going on. But that didn’t make it any better. “You don’t  _have_ me. I don’t belong to you, and neither does Mabel.” 

“I knowyou don’t belong to me, ok? But I belong to you- or  _with_ you or-” Bill was starting to breathe very hard, his eye shining “-what I mean by that is I- I don’t belong … anywhere else …” With a strangled noise, Bill leaped to his feet. For a moment, Dipper thought he was lunging at him, but Bill only walked towards the railing, raking a hand through his hair. Dipper watched with wide eyes, feeling something akin to distant horror.

“Look …” The wobble in his voice had become more distinct, and Dipper wondered if he had begun to cry. “I’m a  _failure_ , alright? A pathetic failure. Is that what you need to hear? Because I’ll say it again if you need me to!” He paused to take a shuddering breath, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’ve failed everything I ever attempted and lost everything I ever had. I’m a fleshbag clutching at the last threads of my old life while they slip through my fingers. You may not've liked that life,” and here Bill turned towards him, smiling manically, “but it was mine!”  

The smile was dashed and he turned away again, trembling. “But now it’s not, and all that’s left for me is to do chores for you and your sister while I wait to die. I’m  _trying_ to find my place in all that, and when yougo reminiscing with your little girlfriend, I feel like my place isn’t here, and that’s terrifying to me because I have no idea where else to go.” 

He took another haggard, wretched breath as if he were drowning. Dipper could only stare at him, feeling as if though he had been punched in the gut.  

“… so? You going to tell me none of that matters? That I was out of line …?” 

He hadn’t been prepared for this. He had no idea. 

“‘It was just for kicks, Pine Tree’. That’s what you want to hear from me now, isn’t it …?” 

He didn’t think this would lead to watching Bill break down in front of him. 

“Oh, are you going to stop talking to me again? Already?”  

The quiver in his voice suggested that the thought frightened him. Dipper blinked, and then opened his mouth, only to find that the words wouldn’t come. Snorting, Bill shook his head, and, to Dipper’s distress, he began walking away. 

“ _Wait_ ,” Dipper jumped to his feet, his arm half raised. Bill stopped. His arms were still crossed. He didn’t turn around. “Bill,” he started in the softest voice he could manage. “I … I shouldn’t have ignored you, okay? I’m sorry.” 

Bill made a choked, sniffling noise. He scrubbed his face with the heel of his hand, not once looking over at him. 

“But … you need to apologize to Pacifica. Alright? She didn’t deserve that, no matter what you say. I’m willing to forget all about this, if you just apologize to her, alright?” 

For a long moment, Bill didn’t say anything. A part of Dipper wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe confirm whether he had actually been crying. Just as he lifted his arm, Bill walked away, not saying a word. He watched as he entered the house and disappeared down the hall. Dipper stood on the porch for a long time, feeling a heady mixture of guilt, anger, confusion, and regret. He wondered if, even after all this time, Bill was even capable of carrying out his demand. 

… 

After dimming the lights to her meditation room, Pacifica grabbed her lighter and carefully lit the tip of the joss stick. Once the flame caught, she allowed it to burn from just a moment, before quickly blowing it out. The smoke trailed as she placed in the burner. After a few seconds, the scent wafted about the room, and she inhaled deeply.  _Mmm. That’s the stuff. It’s been such a long day …_  

Sitting down on her mat, Pacifica assumed the lotus position and wondered if she should wait before beginning. Bill was already late, as is. But what if that was due to Dipper, whatever it was they could be talking about? What if Bill was just standing her up?  

Just as she decided to give him another ten minutes, however, she heard the door creak open. She spotted Bill peeking through the crack in the doorway, and she sighed with relief. “Good, you made it.” When he didn’t move, seeming to be conflicted about something, she frowned. “Quit standing there acting creepy, would you? Come on, this won’t last that long, we don’t even have to stretch.” 

She turned towards the incense burner and rested her hands on her knees, closing her eyes. After a moment, she heard the door close and could feel his presence walk up to next to her, sitting on the spare mat she had laid out. She resisted the urge to look over or question him about his talk with Dipper. That was none of her business. “Good. Now, just do whatever it was you did this morning. Would you like me to guide you through it again?” 

She waited for a response. There was none. Opening her eyes slightly, she glanced at him through her peripheral vision. He was staring down at his hands, his eye foggy and distant. It looked like his mind was on an entirely different planet. None of the bitterness usually reserved for her was present in his expression. Her curiosity reared its ugly head.  _Sheesh, what on Earth happened out there?_  

Biting her tongue, she turned away. “Right. I’ll just … leave you to it, then.” 

Taking a deep breath, Pacifica began her meditation process, loosening her shoulders and stretching out her toes. It was a little difficult to concentrate with Bill’s brooding presence beside her in the confined space of her meditation room, but eventually, she was able to push the distraction aside.  

Then, and she didn’t know if she was just imagining it, he whispered something. “Pacifica?” 

Pacifica creased her eyelids. She whispered, “Yeah?” 

“I’m …” 

She waited. The air around her had become tense and agitated. Whatever it was that he and Dipper had talked about, it clearly hadn’t improved Bill’s mindset. She had little faith that he would be able to concentrate on meditating this way.  

She kept waiting, then jumped as the door slammed shut behind her. She turned around. Bill was gone.

She sighed. 

 _Should I even bother?_  

… 

With nowhere else to go, Bill escaped to the beach. He found that the salty breeze and cool night’s air helped to settle his nerves and sooth his mind. Moonlight glinted on the ocean’s waves, and he found the hypnotic display an ample distraction. He sat down on the rough sand, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees.

In the days following the rougaru attack, Bill suffered the worse pains of his life. His chest was sliced and his head was cracked, and he couldn’t move an inch without reopening scabs. However, even then, he had the assurance that, with proper treatment, his injuries would eventually heal. He had the comfort of certainty.  

But now he wasn’t certain about much of anything, and it was  _killing him._  

The fight with Dipper had been a disaster. He had been choked up with emotion and, in his frustration, had felt tears stinging the back of his eyes. The more upset he became, the worse the feeling got. He couldn’t bear to have Dipper witness his humiliation, his complete lack of control.

 _I’m willing to forget all about this. If you_ _just_ _apologize to her._  

The words had been on the tip of Bill’s tongue in the meditation room. He  _wanted_ to, wanted to so badly end this mess so Dipper would talk to him again without scowling. But the words were strangled in his throat; this was still  _her_ fault if  _she had never called in the first place—_  

Bill hid his face in his arms, furious at himself.  

He just wanted things to go back to the way they were. 

… 

An hour later found Dipper sitting up on his bed, staring into the white screen on his laptop. The research to identify the company logo that matched Francis’ description was proving to be more difficult than he thought. As the night wore on, his exhaustion made itself more and more apparent. Hard to believe a few hours ago he had been at the bottom of the ocean, but he tried not to dwell on it. 

In a bid of distraction, he tried pouring over the rough draft for his next book. He had hoped the insanity of the day’s events would help him push through his recent block. As of now, he’s had no such luck. He felt as if though he’d have an easier time yanking out his own teeth than putting words to the screen. 

A knock on the door roused him. Dipper blinked, and then realized it must be Mabel asking him to review her letter to Mermando for the fourth time.  _I told her it doesn’t matter what she writes so long as she includes all the information from the docks._  Sighing, he rose to his feet, hearing several joints popped as he stretched out his arms and walked towards the door. He opened it a tad, a scathing comment ready. 

“Hey,” Bill said, smiling weakly. Dipper closed his mouth, eyes widening.  

“Uh, hey.” He opened the door a bit more. “You, uh … I wasn’t expecting you.” 

Bill nodded and then looked down at the floor for a moment. Taking a bracing breath, he lifted his head. “I did it, okay? I did what you said.” 

Dipper’s eyes widened further. He knew what Bill was referring to. “You apologized to Pacifica?” Bill nodded, seeming determined to hold eye contact. Dipper drew his eyebrows together. “Wow, I … I didn’t think you would do it, um, so quickly.” 

“Well, I did, and you promised you’d forget about all this if I did so …” Bill’s mouth twitched, and he drew an agitated tongue across his bottom lip. “So, can we do that now?” 

A part of Dipper desperatelywanted to believe Bill. To leave this whole mess behind them and get on with their investigation. It almost hurt how badly he wanted Bill to be telling the truth. But when Dipper continued to hold his gaze, frowning, Bill swallowed and glanced down at fidgeting hands. Dipper’s suspicions flared. 

“That was the deal …” Seeing as how there was only one way to get a straight answer, Dipper shouldered his way past Bill and closed the door behind him. “Right. I’m just, uh, going to go to the bathroom, then. You do … whatever, okay?” 

Bill stared at him with a shining eye, and for a second Dipper thought he was going to say something. But Bill only looked away, mumbling under his breath. Dipper left him standing there in front of his door, and he wondered when his life got so melodramatic. 

He found Pacifica on her way back from the bathroom. She smiled at him. “Hey, Dip. You heading off to bed?” 

“Soon. It’s been a crazy day.” 

“You’re telling me.” She laughed. Seeming to sense something on his mind, she then asked, “Is everything okay?” 

“Fine,” he lied. Licking his lips, he wondered the best way to word his next sentence. “Hey, listen … did Bill talk to you recently?” 

She hadn’t been expecting the question. Her face went slack with surprise. “Um, not much, actually. He kind of ducked out of evening meditation earlier, but I guess his head wasn’t really in the game anyway.” 

“I mean, did he apologize to you? You know … for yesterday.” 

“… _oh_.” Her mouth formed a perfect ‘ _o_ ’ shape, then her expression went curiously blank. “Apologize?” And somehow Dipper  _knew_ what the answer he was going to hear, that Bill had lied to his face  _again_ _and t_ he thought made him so furious that— 

“Um, yeah, actually. He told me that he was sorry.” 

Dipper felt like he had just missed a step walking the stairs. Pacifica grinned, and it seemed wider than usual. 

“Seriously?” 

“Mmhmm. You must have gotten through to him. I’m really glad we can finally put this behind us.” 

“Yeah,” he found himself agreeing.  _Bill … told me the truth?_ The thought was alien, and yet Dipper felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest.  _Yeah. We can finally forget about this_. “Yeah. I just, wanted to double check with you. You know how it is, right?” 

“Definitely.” Pacifica started twirling her fingers through her hair. “Um, I’m going to head off to bed now. Glad everything worked out.” 

“Me too.” 

Nodding, Pacifica turned tail and left for her room, seeming to walk a tad faster than usual. Dipper didn’t think too much of it, feeling light and pleased.  _I guess I really did break through to him._  

When he returned to his room, Bill had barely moved. He was leaning up against the wall, his back to Dipper and seeming a second away from falling down. When Dipper opened the door, he yelped and whirled around. Dipper held up a calming hand. 

“Sheesh, take it easy,” he said, walking into his room. He wondered if he should admit he had just double checked with Pacifica to confirm his story, but decided against it. He was just as eager as anybody to leave this all in the past. Instead, he said, “Bill?” 

Dipper turned around. Bill, who had been following him, stopped, and Dipper took a deep breath. “I’m … I really am sorry, about everything. This whole time I figured you were just acting like a jerk for the sake of it. I guess a part of me still figured you hadn’t changed from before. But,” and he smiled gently, “you’re different now.” 

Bill’s eye went wide and, strangely enough, he seemed confused. Then a flash of realization crossed his expression, and his face relaxed. “Well, you know me. Unpredictable. And, uh, I’m always just …” Bill sighed, seeming to deflate.  “I’m so tired, Pine Tree.” 

He looked so fragile, that Dipper couldn’t help the tug in his chest. _Just hug it out already!_ he could hear Mabel yelling in his mind. Not giving himself time to think about it, he pulled the flagging Bill into his chest and wrapped his arms tight around him. Bill initially stiffened, but before long he sunk into the hug, hiding his face in Dipper’s shoulder. 

The more Dipper reflected on it, the more he appreciated just how vulnerable Bill had been with him that evening. Though Dipper knew little about his past, Bill had probably never been so overwhelmed before. He hadn’t been capable of it. Dipper never stopped to consider how scared he could have been by his own emotions.  

The thought made him tighten his grip.  _I’m sorry._  

The two stood there for another few moments, and Dipper waited for the point where it would start becoming uncomfortable. But the moment didn’t come. He supposed that was a result of sharing a large twin sized bed for the last few weeks. 

But then he felt Bill’s grip loosen and figured it was a good time to let go. It was then he realized how heavy Bill’s head had gotten on his shoulder. Almost as if … did he hear snoring? 

 _Please don’t tell me he actually fell asleep._  

With a huff, Dipper slapped Bill hard on the back. Bill snorted and straightened up, looking around with a bleary gaze.  _He really did fall asleep._ Dipper shook his head, exasperated, and then stepped away. 

“I’m going to go take a shower,” he announced, going to collect his old pajamas. “It’s been a long day.” Bill nodded, rubbing his eye and yawning where he stood. Dipper doubted he had even heard what he said. 

When Dipper returned, freshly showered and feeling better than he had all day, he was unsurprised to find Bill balled up underneath the bedsheet covers, shoes kicked off and wearing the same clothes. The eyepatch had been thrown onto the nightstand.  _Oh well. It was nice having my own bed again for a while._ But he supposed it was a small sacrifice.  _At least this one’s Queen sized._  

He crawled under the sheets himself, futilely attempting to spin out a few more words in his rough draft before reverting back to his research. When 2 AM crawled by and the words were drifting out of place, it was time to call it quits. Bill had yet to move, and he couldn’t say whether he had already fallen asleep. Powering down his laptop and flicking off the lights, he settled down, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.  

… 

It took Pacifica’s alarm several times of repeated snoozing to fully wake her up. She felt heavy that morning, grouchier than usual. 

After dressing in a comfortable pair of leggings and a t-shirt, she quickly washed her face in the bathroom. She stared at her bedraggled reflection upon surfacing.  _Hmm._ Small bags had formed under her eyes. She didn’t sleep particularly well. 

 _Wonder if Bill and Dip finally made their peace._ She wondered if she had been right lying to Dipper last night. Exhaling a slow breath, Pacifica pushed such thoughts away. After drinking a copious, near unhealthy amount of tea, she grabbed her yoga mat and made her way to the beach. 

As she walked down the sandy dune, she spotted a body splayed out on the shore, well away from the ocean’s waves. Her confusion fell away when she recognized the blonde hair.  

“Oh. I didn’t think yoo _ouuaaagghh_.” Pacifica covered her mouth, trying to hide her shock. Bill had sat up and turned towards her. His skin was a bright, angry red, and a furious purple bruise danced along his jaw.  _Courtesy of me, no doubt_ , she thought, simultaneously proud and horrified at her work. The sunburn must have been a result of being trapped in a boat on a cloudless day for two and a half hours. “Holy shit, you look terrible.” 

A half smile quirked Bill’s mouth, and Pacifica realized that her statement wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t look half as miserable as yesterday, and she dared say he looked almost well rested. “You’re one to talk.” The derisive comment didn’t hold the usual amount of bitterness, and Pacifica smiled.  

“This doesn’t count,” she said, gesturing to her face. “I haven’t had a chance to put on my makeup yet. Now are we doing yoga or what?”  She didn’t know the answer, so she was pleasantly surprised when he nodded. 

Lying out her mat next to him, she quickly went back to the house to retrieve his own mat. She took a moment to roll out her shoulders and breathe before beginning to lead him through the stances. She included more time to explain how each pose was achieved, and was happy to note that he using his left hand seemed to help with his balance. 

For the most part, Bill was silent. But it wasn't the same agitated silence of last night. This was the silence of pleasant company. Which …  _God, who’d’ve thought Bill Cipher could ever be pleasant company._  

After a while, though, Bill broke the silence. “You …” he started as Pacifica led him through the Warrior’s Pose. “Dipper talked to you last night … right?” 

“Oh, um. Yeah, actually. He was asking about …” Pacifica trailed off.  _Maybe telling him Dipper had been double checking whether he was lying isn’t the best idea._  

But Bill seemed to be a few steps ahead of her. “You covered for me, didn’t you?” 

“Well, when you put it like that …” Guilt pricked her stomach, and she didn’t know if it was misplaced or not. But then, Bill did the most surprising thing she’s ever seen him do. 

“Thank you.” 

Pacifica’s face went slack. Bill’s back was to her, so she couldn’t see his expression. Before she could determine whether this was an elaborate joke or not, Bill surprised her further with, 

“And I am sorry, Blondie … about everything.” 

 _Holy shit._  

To her embarrassment, Pacifica choked up. She straightened up out of her pose, rubbing the back of her flushing neck. “I, um … uh … you can stand up now.” Bill did as told, still not looking at her, staring out towards the ocean. She supposed it didn’t matter, and she struggled with what to say next. “And don’t mention it. I’m glad things worked out. And, if I can ask … what made you change your mind?” She gestured to the yoga mat beneath her, hoping he understood. 

Bill didn’t say anything, instead looking down at his hands, picking at his cuticles. “It’s what they need me to do,” was all he said. 

Pacifica smirked, feeling something vaguely reminiscent of pride. “I can respect that. Take your seat and, uh … I, um, have some medicine for that, by the way.” When Bill glanced towards her, she gestured to her jaw. He tightened his lips and then nodded. 

The two of them settled down. When Pacifica tried to relax her body and clear her mind, she found she couldn’t quite manage it. She stared out at the glittering ocean, mind wandering far away where she couldn’t reign it back in. After several moments of silence, she found herself whispering, “How did you become human, Bill?” 

She glanced through the corner of her eyes. Bill was sitting up straight, slouching only a tad, but making no outward signal that he had heard her. But then, he said. “I needed a place to hide. About a month ago, I asked the twins to make a body for me. I’ve been staying with them ever since.” 

Pacifica mouthed ' _wow'_ , even though she was sure he didn’t see it. “Damn. And now you’re here, huh? That must have been a difficult transition.” 

“Implying it still isn’t an ongoing process.” 

Pacifica smiled though it quickly fell away after a moment. “I just … can’t believe the twins made such a big decision, taking you in. They didn’t even tell me about it …” It suddenly struck her that, yes, the twins had kept such a monumental secret from her. It stung a little.  

“Don’t beat yourself up, Blondie,” Bill said, seeming to read her thoughts. “I told them to keep tight lips.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Because …” And here Bill seemed to struggle. He paused to lick his lips, before continuing. “Minds aren’t safe places.” 

Pacifica blinked, processing the words in her mind. But they refused to make sense. “What does that even me—?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Pacifica clamped her jaw shut. Bill’s tone rang of finality, and she didn’t feel like breaking this strange peace that they had achieved. Nodding to herself, Pacifica returned to her position, taking care to focus this time. She closed her eyes. She exhaled a deep breath, humming deep in her chest, feeling the salty breeze run through her hair.  

Around twenty minutes later, she opened her eyes, feeling soothed and mindful. Meditation had always been the surefire way to improve her mood; she wondered why none of her friends ever picked it up. 

She turned towards Bill and reached to place his hand on his shoulder, but something stopped her. Shifting onto the soles of her feet, she angled herself to get a better look at his expression. His lips were tightly pressed together, expression tense as if he were deeply focused on something. A single bead of sweat dripped down the side of his head. 

 _Is he in the Mindscape?_  

Pacifica brought a hand to her mouth, unsure of what to do next. Would this be like last time when he was looking for the twins? Would he stop breathing again? How long had this been going on? Her stomach fluttered with nervousness. 

Just as she rolled onto her feet, however, Bill gasped, and then opened his eye. He looked around wildly for a moment before seeing her. Color quickly returned to his face, and he appeared in significantly better shape than that first time. His eye sparkled with excitement, alarm, dread, and, maybe, just a hint of triumph. 

“I found something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More beautiful fanart!
> 
> [[chocolienits]](http://chocolienits.tumblr.com/post/136766796970/this-is-for-athina-blaines-spectacular-fic) Bill's emotional state. Chocolienits captures Bill's distress in his expression _perfectly_. 
> 
> [[goldfishspleen]](http://billdip-secretsanta2015.tumblr.com/post/135905068211/present-for-athina-blaine-from-goldfishspleen) Chapter 3, Bill and Dipper watching midnight television. My BillDip Secret Santa 2015 present! Isn't it gorgeous? The little details are what gets me, like the creases around Bill's eye, and his feet. Especially his big toe! (It's a really cute toe.)
> 
> [[lanxborealis]](http://lanxborealis.tumblr.com/post/135997641933/this-took-a-lot-longer-than-expected-but-here-you) Chapter 2, Bill admiring his new face. This was a request on my part, and it exceeded all expectations. I love how wild Bill's eye is.
> 
> [[sarokophoenix]](http://sarokophoenix.tumblr.com/post/135229720893/some-sketches-of-some-of-my-favorite-scenes-from) A comic of various scenes from Chapters 1-6. Words cannot convey my adoration of these sketches. Sarokophoenix even remembered the singing banana on Bill's sweater from chapter 2! ;w; 
> 
> [[thewriterdrawsanimoo]](http://thewriterdrawsanimoo.tumblr.com/post/134610261089/defining-bill-cipher-by-athinablaine-this-story) Chapter 8, Bill taking in the shock of Dipper's confrontation. The colors in this picture are great; they make the whole piece pop out. Bill's haggard expression is on point as well. 
> 
> Thank you so much, guys, for the art and for the kind words you left for me. Every time someone recommends my fic, my heart melts a little. I hope I can continue to entertain you! <3
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	11. Dipper Pines, the Get Away Driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang pulls off a strange and daring rescue.

Dipper almost spat up his tea. “She’s at the  _zoo?_ ”

Bill nodded. He and Pacifica were standing across the bar where Dipper and Mabel sat.  A nasty bruise and sunburn had developed on Bill, but Dipper hadn't had any time to question it. 

“Specifically the San Diego Zoo," Bill said." Don’t worry, I triple checked; she’s definitely there.”

Dipper stared into his mug, eyes narrowed.  _The zoo … Of course she’d be there._ “Well,” he continued, facing his sister, “that explains why we couldn’t match any fishing companies. It’s usually zoos and reserves that use green text.”

“I guess it’s better than her in the hands of some poacher,” Mabel said, her lips twisting with distaste. “Isn’t capturing animals from the wild illegal now? Don’t they just breed the animals they already have?”

“Not if they’re running low on breeders,” Pacifica said. “The aquarium is a new addition; most of it is still under construction. It might just be cheaper to catch new animals than buy them from other zoos. But that’s just speculation. First,” her eyes started sparkling, “you guys need to hear how Bill figured it out; it’s wicked cool.” She nudged Bill with her elbow. “Go on.”

Bill raked a hand through his hair, looking away. “It’s nothing that special, Blondie.”

“Says the guy who just solved our mystery using only one guy’s name.”

“I …” Bill sighed. “Sure, whatever. All I need to find someone in the Mindscape is a name or a face, alright? So I jumped into the head of that Francis kid you mentioned yesterday and combed through his memories. When I found the memory of him seeing the sea cow, I jumped into the head of whoever he saw handling her. I did that over and over until I found the person who put her in the aquarium. That’s it. Like I said, it’s not that—”

“Not to mention he did it all in under  _twenty minutes_.” Pacifica squirmed, giddy with excitement. “Like, I’ve seen a lot of cool shit in my time, but that is some  _really cool_ shit.”

“Time moves differently in the Mindscape; it was closer to an hour.”

Dipper quirked a brow, staring thoughtfully at Bill. He didn’t think he had ever seen Bill miss the chance to brag about his inherent illustriousness over the human race. “Bill? Did I just hear you trying to be  _modest?_ ”

“You brats are just too easily impressed,” Bill snapped. “If you could’ve seen the stuff I  _used_ to be able to do …” He was almost pouting, a sight that greatly amused Dipper for some reason. “Look, just … don’t crutch on the Mindscape too much, alright? It’ll come back and bite all us if you do, believe me. So shut your mouth, Pine Tree, and start figuring out a way to save this cow so we can all go home.”

“I’m  _waay_ ahead of you, Bill,” said Mabel, browsing through her phone. She placed it upright on the table. On the screen was a map of the San Diego Zoo. “The aquarium add-on is being built between the Discovery Outpost and the Lost Forest. Only half of it is complete, so the completed half has to be where Her Majesty must be.  _Right_ —” she tapped a white block on the map “— _there_.”

“Let me see that …” Dipper brought the phone closer to himself. All the constructions sites on the map appeared shaded and declared  _CLOSED_ in large, white text.  _No pedestrians, then, although we’ll still need to clear out any workers or staff. Hmm. This is going to be tricky_. “Okay … I think I have an idea.”

Pulling his notebook out of his pocket, he flipped to a clean page and started jotting down thoughts as they flew through his head. He started crossing out certain notes and connecting others. As he did so, he felt the familiar muted excitement that came with planning something dangerous.

Mabel said, her voice hushed out of courtesy, “I hope they’re treating her okay …”

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then, Pacifica cleared her throat.

“ _So_. Bill,” Pacifica said. “What all can you do in that Mindscape place anyway?”

Bill groaned, and Dipper could almost hear him roll his eye. “Why can’t you just step off, Blondie?”

“What? It’s  _cool_. Can you blame me for being curious? So, you can, like, go into other people’s heads, right?”

A sigh. “Sort of. Before, all I did was drag them into the Mindscape so they could see me. I can’t go into their actual minds without a handshake.”

“And you can see people’s memories once you do?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you, like, make people dream things? That’s what you did before, right? You were a dream demon.”

“It’s not that simple. And I don’t know what I can do anymore. I wasn’t even supposed to be linked to the Mindscape anymore. This is all new territory.”

“What about those rougarus?” Mabel asked. “You killed them, didn’t you?”

Pacifica gasped. “You can kill people in the Mindscape?”

Bill made a noise of annoyance. “Yes. Technically, I guess. I can overload minds and fry it. But it’s a pain in the ass to do. I don't even remember going into the Mindscape with those beasts.” After a moment, he added, “I'm pretty sure I can still put people to sleep, though. That was never too difficult.”

“ _Wow_.”

Just then, Dipper realized he had been staring at his notebook for the last minute without writing down anything. He sighed through his nose, and then looked up. Pacifica was staring at Bill with poorly concealed awe. Bill, for his part, tried to look surly, but Dipper recognized the smug little grin. He was clearly enjoying this. Dipper wondered if he should warn Bill from letting the praise get to his head, but decided against it. His power was, after all, an incredibly helpful tool. He deserved the positive attention.

A second later, Dipper rose to his feet. “I’m going to need a whiteboard for this. I’ll call you guys when I have everything sorted, just hang tight.”

He left them standing in the kitchen, thoughts racing as he tried to assemble together the perfect puzzle.

…

Dipper called everyone to the living room two hours later. He had assembled a whiteboard on an easel and a handful of notecards. The tip of his eraser was chewed off, he had a minor headache, and his hand was heavily smudged from the marker, but he was in a good mood. He beamed as the others took their place on the couch.

He cleared his throat.

“So this is what I’ve come up with.” Stepping aside, he gestured to the whiteboard. “I call it,  _Operation Blubber Bust._ ”

“ _Whoo!_ ” Mabel started applauding and whistling. Pacifica smiled. Bill rolled his eye, slightly shaking his head.

Dipper held up a hand.

“It’s not the best plan, and almost all of it is …  _highly_ dangerous and  _incredibly_ illegal. But it’s the best I could come up with. Here are the supplies we need …” 

Taking one of his notecards, he passed the supply list to Pacifica, who was nearest to him. Her eyes traveled down the page, getting steadily wider the further she got.

“Megaphone with voice modulator, walkie-talkies … a  _plasma cutter?_ ” Pacifica looked back up as Bill snatched the list from her loose grip. “Dipper, what the hell?”

“Masks, wigs, baggy clothes …” Bill mumbled. “I don’t get the point of all this hullabaloo, Pine Tree. Why can’t Blondie just bail out the stupid manatee?”

“You can’t just  _buy_ zoo animals,” Mabel answered.

“And it’s not like we can tell them they stole the Queen of the freaking Manatees and Merpeople,” said Pacifica, “and that four people are being held hostage. They’d just laugh at us, or lock us in some kind of ward.”

Mabel returned the list to Dipper. “What have you got for us, bro?”

A bout of anxiety fluttered through his stomach. “Okay … bear with me, guys. We’ll start by infiltrating the construction site.” He gestured to the area of the map he had marked in green. “Pacifica and I will go undercover as journalists for a local paper. We’ll both need some heavy disguises. Once we’re in the clear, I’ll stay behind while Pacifica meets up with Mabel and Bill in the Discovery Outpost.” He pointed to the sector drawn in blue.

“While Pacifica and Mabel change into some baggy clothes and masks, Bill will head into the crowd. After that, you guys will take out a gun and start—”

“ _What?!_ ” said Mabel.

“ _Bear with me_ ,” Dipper said. “One of you will grab Bill and take him hostage. Use the voice modulator on the megaphone and order everybody out of the park—”

His words only riled them up further. “Dipper, are you  _crazy?_ ” Pacifica asked as Mabel and Bill shot each other a fevered look. “Do you  _want_ the cops on our heads? A gun threat will bring them right to us! Where do you even plan to get a gun?”

“Grunkle Stan helped us buy our car on the condition we have a gun in the center console, in case of emergencies,” Mabel said to Pacifica, before turning back to her brother. “But I dunno, Dip. That some serious business.”

“Pine Tree, I know you have a thing for drama,” Bill said, “but don’t you think that’s a little counterproductive? Also,  _hostage?_ ”

“The guards will be cooperative if we say we have a hostage,” said Dipper, eyes trained to Bill. He shrugged. “There really isn’t much else for you to do.” Bill frowned, looking as if he had tasted something sour. “Here are your notecards with all your steps; memorize them.”

He passed Mabel and Pacifica’s respective cards. As the girls flipped through them, Dipper heard Bill make a resentful grunt.

“Why don’t I get any notes?”

“Bill, you’re the hostage,” he said. “Hostages don’t need notes.” Bill continued to glare, and Dipper frowned. “What? You want me to write you a monologue or something?”

“Maybe I do.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, but pulled out one of the blank cards from the stack and scribbled onto it. He handed the note over to Bill.

“ _Step 1: Act like a Hostage_ ,” Bill read under his breath, “‘ _Help. I am a hostage._ ’Oh  _ha ha_ , Pine Tree. You’re really giving me a lot to work with here.”

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Dipper replied. Mabel turned towards her brother, eyes wide. Dipper spoke before she could say anything. “Look, I know this is a little extreme—”

“A  _little?_ ” Pacifica scoffed.

“ _But_ , it’s the only way to clear out the park, and especially the construction zone. Once everyone’s been evacuated, all of us will head over to the aquarium and find the Queen. I’ll get one of the trucks that’s used to hold the saltwater and cut the top off using the plasma cutter. When I finish, I’ll drive it over to where you guys are.”

“Dipper, cutting a hole big enough in a steel truck is going to take you 20 minutes, at least,” said Pacifica. “Are you sure we’ll have that much time?”

“Security is going to be too focused on evacuating everyone. It’ll give us enough time,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “Especially if they know we have a hostage.”

“ _Me_ ,” Bill said bitterly. Dipper nodded.

“Exactly. We’ll use a crane to lift the Queen out of the water and into the truck. I have a route planned that’ll take us directly to the beach, we dump her into the ocean, and  _bam!_ Mission accomplished.”

“You say that like it’s so easy,” Pacifica mumbled. “We’ll have the cops tailing us the entire time.”

“I can outmaneuver them,” Dipper said, proudly. “Like I said, I have a route planned. There’s a service exit at the back of the park, near the aquarium, used specifically for transporting animals. It’ll take us all the way to the highway.” He waited for them to say anything, but everyone remained silent. He swallowed, the flutters of anxiety returning. “It’s the best plan we’ve got. I told you guys before … this stuff is going to be dangerous.”

“I just figured, you know,” Mabel cringed, trying to summon the correct words, “we’d be doing something a bit stealthier. Do we  _really_ need to use the emergency gun?”

“Mabel, you handle a gun better than anyone I know,” Dipper said, eyebrows narrowed. “You won’t hurt anybody.”

“I  _know_ , but …” Mabel looked down at her hands. “I dunno. It doesn’t feel right to train a gun at bystanders. Can’t we just … buy a squirt gun and spray paint it? No one will know, right? Especially if we have Bill as a hostage.”

 _Well …_  Dipper brought a hand to his lips. He supposed it wouldn’t make any real difference, and if it helped with Mabel’s concentration … “Okay, we’ll do that, then. Just be careful.”

He held his sister’s gaze for a moment. Then, she sighed.

“I’ll do anything to save Manati,” she said. “She’s been kidnapped, and it’s up to us to rescue her and get her back to her baby. If Dipper says this is our best chance, then this is our best chance.”

Dipper felt a swell of confidence at his sister’s words. That said, the feeling was dampened by Pacifica’s reluctant expression and Bill’s outright incredulity. But after a moment, Pacifica nodded.

“This isn’t … the  _worst_ plan, anyway. I’m sure you’ll bring us out of it, Dip.”

Dipper smiled. The three of them turned to Bill, who was glaring at the table, absentmindedly rubbing his bruised jaw. He seemed to notice their staring just then, for he looked up, threading his hair. “Kid, you and your sister managed to outwit me twice before, and that was back when I was all-powerful.” He looked up, and his lips twitched into a small, crooked smirk. “Saving this cow’ll be no skin off your nose, I’m sure.”

And for some reason, Bill’s confidence in him inspired Dipper the most. He scratched his nose and looked down at his notes, wondering if he looked as pleased as he felt. “So we’re all on the same page?” he continued, fighting down his smile. “Good. Because I want to do this today.”

“You’re  _joking—!_ ”

“Bro-bro—”

“ _What—?!_ ”

“ _Today_ , Pine Tree?” Bill asked over the others’ protests. “ _Really?_ Is there any reason we can’t do this at night, or tomorrow?”

“Security is going to be even tighter at night. It’ll be a hundred times harder getting in and getting out, and anybody who sees us will get suspicious before we have time to secure ourselves. Someone will raise an alarm before we even get the truck. No, we do this today.”

“We’re not gonna have enough  _time—_ ”

“ _Dipper—_ ”

Dipper blocked out their raised protests and cries, dismantling the easel and whiteboard and sauntering out of the room. He’d already made his decision. Today was the day. He wanted those hostages from underwater released as soon as possible. Greg. Dr. Dunbar. Margaret. The unseen Adrianne. He’d get them home.

Not to mention he didn’t trust the King to not take another hostage if they took too long.

Dipper was ready for this to be over.

…

It took some wheedling, but Dipper was able to convince Pacifica and Mabel to perform the operation today. Bill merely looked amused, but Dipper supposed that just made things easier. Following his strict orders, the four of them outfitted themselves in hats and sunglasses and ratty clothes before going out and making their purchases. They paid for everything in cash they withdrew from nearby ATMs.

As per Dipper’s instructions, Mabel sent a bottle message detailing the skeleton of their plan and where to meet them for the exchange of the Queen. They were to bring the hostages there and let them go once the exchange was complete.

By 2 o’clock in the afternoon, they were ready.

“We’ll take two different cabs,” Dipper stated as he adjusted his black wig and vest. The four of them were standing outside the beach house. He and Pacifica were the most heavily disguised, with her wearing a brunette wig and a bright red blazer and pencil skirt. “Me and Pacifica and then Mabel and Bill. Remember,” he turned to Mabel. She was wearing a light blouse and pants, and she had crammed all her hair into a baseball cap. “Your codename is  _Muscle_. I’m  _Driver_ , and Pacifica is  _Face_.”

Bill made a spiteful expression while Mabel scratched her chin. She shook her head. “Nnnah, those codenames are lame. I wanna be Agent Sparrow Mu again.”

Dipper flushed, made worse by Pacifica’s giggle.

“I’m with Mabel on this; Agent Peacock Pi was awesome.”

“Why don’t  _I_ get a nickname?”

“Bill, you’re the hostage,” Pacifica said. “People could get tipped off if we called you by a codename.”

“But I  _want_ one.”

“Fine. Your nickname is ‘The Hostage’.”

Mabel snorted, and Dipper tried to hide his smirk. Bill glared at Pacifica and then looked at him meaningfully. Like a dog begging to be let on the couch.  _Ah, fuck._ “ _Okay,_  fine, Bill,” Dipper held up his hands, “if it means that much to you.”

“It does.”

“Hmmm …” Dipper brought a thumb to his lips. “You can be … Agent Vulture Beta.” Bill smiled. Whatever made him happy, Dipper guessed. He supposed he owed it to him anyway. “So, we’re all agreed? Dumb bird names it is?”

The three of them nodded. Pacifica glanced over her shoulder, and then stepped back.

“Our ride’s here.”

Dipper turned. The sight of the cab filled him with the familiar anxious flutters. It about twenty minutes, the four of them would be launching a plan to hijack a manatee. It hadn’t been the craziest thing he’d ever organized (such as when he and Mabel had to rescue Waddles and Soos from an inter-dimensional detention center), but breaking the law to this extreme left him restless, regardless. He thought of the hostages and the Queen, and took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go. Backpack, please.”

Mabel picked up his backpack, which carried Pacifica’s old camera, his walkie-talkie, and the plasma cutter. When Dipper grabbed it by the straps, it plummeted towards the ground and he was barely able to keep it lofted. It had almost dislocated his shoulder. “ _Shit!_ What the …  _Christ_ , this is fucking  _heavy_ …”

“You’re lucky I was able to find a cutter that small,” Pacifica said as Dipper pulled the straps over his shoulders. Damn. He really hoped the guys were able to work quickly, else he ran the risk of ruining his back.

The first of the cabs pulled up just then. The second one for Bill and Mabel would be along in another ten or so minutes. Sharing a meaningful glance with his sister and Bill, he piled into the cab with Pacifica, plopping his heavy backpack on the floor. They began driving away.

He sat back, forcing himself to breath steadily.  _Inhale_... _Exhale ..._  It reminded him of the time Pacifica tried to teach him and Mabel yoga and proper breathing techniques. He then began wondering how Bill fared under Pacifica’s tutelage. He imagined Bill attempting to contort his body into knots and then swearing loudly when he couldn’t get it right.

“Something funny?”

Dipper turned towards Pacifica. He hadn’t realized he’d been smiling. “Not really.”

Pacifica quirked a brow but dropped it. She then sat back, taking deep, slow breaths. For the most part, she seemed composed. He had known her long enough to recognize her signs of anxiety. The fidgeting hands, the smoothing of the skirt. She said, “It’s been a while since I’ve … done something like this. I hope I’m not too out of shape.”

“You’ll do fine.” When she didn’t seem convinced, Dipper nudged her with his elbow. “Don’t worry; we’re all in the same boat here. You’re not alone.”

She graced him with a small smile. “Thanks.”

The rest of the cab ride passed in silence.

…

_I can’t believe ticket prices are over fifty dollars._

Pacifica shook her head in distaste as she handed over the folded bills to the employee at the park entrance. She supposed there was some kind of irony that the daughter of one of the richest families on Earth was worried about the price of zoo tickets. But things have changed since she left home. Money was finite, and most of it had already gone into her auction house.

A familiar bout of anxiety reared at the thought of her looming auction house.  _Oh boy. Don’t think about that mess now. You need to focus._

The point was that this heist was expensive. And she wasn’t happy about it.  _Oh well. Maybe Mabel can convince that Mermando guy to give us some jewels or something. Lord knows we’d’ve earned it._

Once Dipper paid for his ticket, the two of them made their way through the park. Pacifica couldn’t help but readjust her sunglasses every so often, feeling as if everyone in the park was watching her.  _It’s all in your head, Paz_. She shook herself.  _There’s no way they know who you are, or could guess that you’re on your way to steal a freaking manatee. Just play it cool._

They reached the edge of the construction area, which had been fenced off to the pedestrians. She looked over towards Dipper, who had taken out his camera.

“You ready?” she asked.

He nodded.

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Pacifica led the two of them through a gap in the fences. It wasn’t long before they encountered the construction workers. The workers either shot the two of them confused looks or ignored them. It wasn’t until they were already halfway through the zone that they were even stopped.

“Hey, you,” a burly woman called out to them. 

Pacifica rehearsed the lines in her head as she approached them. Before she could say anything, Pacifica held out a hand. The woman blinked, surprised.

“Good afternoon,” Pacifica said the most professional voice she could muster. The woman hesitated for a moment, and then slowly took Pacifica’s hand with her own sweaty one.  _Gross, gross, gross_. Pacifica fought down a shudder. “My name is Zoey Davis. Can I speak to the manager of this construction zone?”

“I’m the manager,” said the woman. “Look, ma’am, this area has been closed off—”

“I understand, Miss …?”

“Williams.”

“Miss Williams—”

“That’s ‘missus’; Mrs. Williams.”

“I- Mrs. Williams, yes.”

Pacifica took a moment to collect herself, falling back on all the years of social conditioning her parents had put her through.  _Extend your hand first. Shake firmly. Don’t let them get a word out edgewise. Maintain eye contact._ A rotten sensation constricted her chest.  _Breathe._

“I’m from the local editorial,  _Construction Weekly_. We had heard about the changes the San Diego Zoo would be undergoing and wanted to conduct an examination for our next issue.”

Williams’ eyes had narrowed, flitting between Pacifica and Dipper. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t know what anybody told you, but we’re not supposed to let anybody in here—”

“You mean you didn’t receive any memo?” Pacifica asked, feigning irritation. “We received an email that said we would be allowed temporary access to retrieve the info we needed.” She held up a hand when Williams opened her mouth. “It doesn’t matter. I promise we won’t be too intrusive. My friend here is just going to take a few photographs and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Look—”

“15 minutes, tops, and it’ll be like we were never here—”

“ _Hey._ ”

Pacifica froze. The manager was glaring at her with a heated, annoyed expression. “Let me finish, alright, sweetheart?” Bristling, Pacifica bit her tongue. “No, I didn’t receive a memo, and I’m not about to let you go around messing with all my workers until I see it. Who approved you two being here anyway?”

Sweat had developed on Pacifica’s brow that wasn’t due to the harsh sunlight. She could feel Dipper’s tension besides her, and her mind went into overdrive trying to plan her next move.  _Bob sent the email. You know Bob? What a klutz, that Bob, no wonder you didn’t get the memo. There was no memo! Shit, shit, shit, shit._

The longer Pacifica was silent, the darker Williams’ expression became. Just as she was about to turn away, likely to call security, Pacifica fell back onto the oldest lesson her parents taught her.

“ _Wait,_ ” Pacifica said, causing Williams to pause. Before she could give herself time to think, she reached into her purse and snatched up all the cash she had left. “Here.” She held it out in a clenched fist and waited until Williams took it before continuing. “All he needs are some pictures.”

Williams started at her, and then turned her attention to the stack of cash in her hands. She thumbed through it, eyes widening. She looked back up to Pacifica, jaw slack. “You …”

“Do we have a deal?”

She blinked, seeming to finally register what she had been implying. Glancing over at Dipper one last time, she nodded and then pocketed the cash. “Sure, lady. Those photographs are all yours.”

Relief loosening her chest, Pacifica smiled. “Excellent.” She looked towards Dipper. “Good luck.” And she left without another word. She tried not to run, both to avoid drawing attention and because she didn’t want to trip and fall and make everything worse.

That had been too close. The entire operation had almost been a bust before it got started, all because of Pacifica’s rambling mouth. She had barely been able to salvage it. A familiar, creeping feeling of inadequacy swept over her, and she released a deep breath.

Tucking herself into a shadowy alcove near the information center, Pacifica pulled out her walkie-talkie. “Operation  _Blubber Bust_ is in effect.  _Eagle_ is in the nest. Where are you guys?”

A moment later, Mabel’s warbled voice answered. “ _We’re next to the bathrooms near the Lookout Point. How’d it go?_ ”

“Not good. I almost blew it. I had to fork over about seven hundred dollars to make them let Di-  _Eagle_ in.”

She heard a low whistle. “ _That sucks. Though I guess that’s not much money to you anyway, right?_ ”

Pacifica crinkled her nose, deciding against opening that can of worms. “I guess not. Stay put, I’m moving to your position. Over and out.” She stuffed the device into her purse and began her walk towards the Lookout where Mabel and Bill were waiting for her.

…

After Pacifica left Dipper to his own devices at the construction site, Dipper  tried to locate the saltwater tank trucks. He avoided scrutiny by Williams and the other workers by occasionally taking photos. He avoided chatting up the workers. He didn't want to risk anyone remembering him.

That proved a little difficult with the bright red vest and studded belt Mabel and Pacifica had picked out for him.  _You’re a photographer in San Diego_ , Mabel had said after Dipper’s surly reaction at the vest.  _It would be_ more  _conspicuous to dress conservatively._

 _She’s right,_ Pacifica had said, and Dipper gritted his teeth. Maybe it would have been a better idea to put Bill in charge of disguises after all. But then again he probably would have just brought back Dipper a deer pelt …

Dipper was roused by his musings at the sound of a loud, rumbling engine. He looked over and saw a bright blue truck pulling into the site.  _Saltwater Eternal,_  was printed in large, black letters on the side. It pulled into an empty space on the far side of the site. It was carrying near 10,000 gallons of salt water.  _Perfect._  Relief loosened his chest.

He loitered in the shadow of a wall, fiddling with his camera as he waited for the truck driver to exit his vehicle. The driver was a tall gangly man wearing a blue uniform and hat. He was whistling, and twirling bright, silver keys around his finger. Dipper’s heart sped up. He needed to get those keys.

Once the driver was a decent distance away, Dipper started following him, keeping his head tucked. The driver seemed to be making a beeline for a small building placed in a far corner of the construction zone. It looked like a break room. Dipper maintained what he figured a reasonable distance, until the driver walked into the building, out of sight. Dipper picked up the pace, breaking into a sprint.

When he got to the door, he held back a groan. Next to the door handle was a keycard slot, blinking red.  _Dammit_. Sighing, Dipper looped his camera around his neck and knocked on the door. After a moment, it opened to reveal the truck driver, eyes narrowing at the sight of Dipper. Dipper swallowed.

“H-Hello— _Bonjour_ ,” Dipper said, doing his best to smile. It felt more like a grimace. “I-iz zere any chance I could ‘ave a moment of your time?” He didn’t know that he could do a French accent, much less why he chose to use one now.

The driver’s (Dipper saw his nametag read  _Dave_ ) eyebrows shot up. “Uh. Who are you, kid?”

Dipper bristled at being called ‘kid’.  _He looks barely older than I am._ Then he realized he had been asked a question, and he struggled to think up a name. “M-my name iz,”  _Name, name, what’s a good name?_ “… Bill. I-I am from ze magazine,” he paused, struggling to remember the name Pacifica came up with, “ _Construction Weekly_. I would appreciate it if I could ask you questions. You dr-drive truck, oui?” Dipper turned and pointed at the blue truck. Dave nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me, uh, Bill. Look,” Dave’s expression became reluctant, “is this going to take long?”

“Not at all,” Dipper said, a touch too quickly. Dave didn’t seem to notice, sighing and propping up the door for Dipper. A blessed blast of cool air washed over him. “ _Oui, oui_. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it, kid,” Dave said.

The break room was cramped and cluttered and had a funky smell. Dipper crinkled his nose. Dave brushed passed him, walking towards a doorway that led to a room full of lockers. Dipper followed after, and Dave sighed.

“Alright, Bill. What do you wanna know?”

Dipper blinked, and then quickly swiped off his sunglasses. “R-right, uh … W-what would you say iz the most, uh, difficult part of, um, being a truck driver?”

Dave cast him a sideways look, lips twisting upwards. “I have to get up pretty early, so that sucks. How long have you been in America, Bill?”

“Uhh …” Dipper waited with baited breath as Dave trailed down the line of lockers. “Not particularly long, why?”

“Really? Your English isn’t half bad. What part of France are you from?”

Dipper bit his lip, trying to keep from stuttering. “Paris.”

“Paris? Your dialect sounds more southern.”

“H-haha. Funny zat.” Dipper’s heart was pattering as Dave approached one of the lockers at the far end of the line.  _Locker 218_. “I mean, my mother was from southern France, s-so zat’s probably why.”

Dave chuckled. “My girlfriend is from Rodez, you know. Where was your mother from?”

 _Just shut up!_ Dipper wanted to scream at him. Dave was twisting around his lock, making no effort to hide the combination from Dipper. “Um, I-I zink it, uh—” the inside of the locker was decorated with pictures of Dave and a brunette woman, “—maybe it started with an ‘A’? I really don’t remember—” then he reached into his pocket, depositing a granola bar, his wallet, and the silver keys. Dave looked over to him as he closed the locker door.

“Something the matter, Bill?” he asked as he reapplied the lock. Dipper sighed, hoping beyond hope that the rest of the day proceeded this smoothly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. He grinned. “I, um. I just remembered zat I ‘ave somewhere to be. A _-Adieu._ ”

Dipper fled before anything more could be said.

…

Bill arrived with Mabel at the zoo some twenty minutes later. The day was blistering, the crowd was noisy and kept shoving him around, and it  _reeked_. Both he and Mabel were charged with carrying backpacks filled with the secondary disguises, and his lower back was starting to ache. The animals were especially disappointing. He had vague memories of giant land mammals that reigned 15 stories tall. Those guys were at least mildly interesting, whatever happened to  _those_ guys?

 _Or maybe I’m just getting my memories mixed up_ , he thought as he stared at a dead-eyed horse thing.  _There’s no way this dimension would have anything_ that  _cool in it._

It wasn’t long before the walkie-talkie started buzzing. Once Pacifica filled them in and Mabel informed her of their location, Mabel began leading them through the crowd, elbowing her way through and shouting when people didn’t move fast enough. Bill stayed glued to Mabel’s back, nearly stepping on her heels as she cleared the path.

The deeper they ventured into the crowd, the more uncomfortable Bill became. He had never been packed together with so many people before, and it was causing his body to feel as if it were being choked.  _Breathe_ , he told himself.  _Remember to breathe. Like Blondie taught you._

He reached out to grab the back of Mabel’s shirt. _You’re going to be fine_ , he told himself.

They waited underneath the bathroom awning, where Pacifica spotted them a few minutes later. Mabel waved her over.  “Come on,” she said in a low voice when Pacifica drew near. “We can change in this family bathroom.”

They all piled into the small, poorly maintained bathroom. Bill’s sense of smell was still relatively new to him, and on most days he found it to be a pleasant novelty. This was not one of those days.

“I wanna go home” he mumbled to himself, filled with longing for the Mystery Shack and the crisp Oregon air.

“The sooner we pull this off,” Pacifica said as she tore off her wig and kicked off her shoes, “the sooner we can get out of here. Hurry up and put on your wig.”

“Wig? What wig?” Bill reached into his assigned backpack and pulled out a long, ugly black wig. “Pine Tree didn’t say I had to wear a wig.”

“I didn’t think it would hurt for you to have a disguise as well,” Pacifica said with a cheeky grin, giving Bill a good idea who bought this wig. “Just in case anybody saw you walking in here earlier.”

“But I’m the  _hostage_ ,” Bill snapped. “And this wig sucks!”

“I just wanted you to have the full ‘Agent Vulture Beta’ experience.”

“‘ _Meh meh bleh experience_ ,” Bill mumbled, and then whined, “Shooting Star, Blondie’s picking on me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a baby. Mabel, you said the wig was a good idea, right?” No answer. Pacifica turned around. “Mabel?”

Mabel, who had already changed into her baggy clothes, was staring into the mirror with her eyebrows crossed. Pacifica cleared her throat and she blinked, looking over to them.

“Oh! Uh, sorry. What did I miss?”

Seeming to forget about Bill, Pacifica walked over towards Mabel. “Everything okay, Mabe?” she asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. Mabel nodded, puffing up her cheeks and rolling her shoulders. Pacifica let her arm fall back to her side.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just …” Exhaling a sharp breath, Mabel reached towards her waistline and yanked out the spray-painted water gun, turning it over in her hands. “I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

And here, Bill was stumped. Shooting Star? Nervous over  _this?_  He didn’t get it.

Grumbling to himself, Bill flipped the atrocious wig onto his head, stuffing his blonde hair into the net. It smelled moldy and itched. Not giving himself the chance to peek at himself in the mirror, he made for the door. “I’m out of here,” he declared, opening the door just enough that he could slip out. “Don’t lollygag, ladies.”

He sauntered back out into the blistering sun, his mood plummeting as a result. The wig seemed to absorb all the light in the immediate area.  _Though there's still plenty left over_ , he thought, squinting as he observed the zoo map. He wished he had thought to bring sunglasses.

The girls were taking their sweet time, as Bill was still lounging about some fifteen minutes later, sweating and trying to stave off his suffocation. Maybe they just couldn't see him? Maybe this whole operation would be a bust just because Mabel couldn't spot his horrible wig in time before they were tackled by security.  _Just what this trip needs. Another extension. I hope they don't expect me to break them out of jail._

Thankfully, he worries were unfounded. The only warning he got was the flash of dark clothing in the corner of his eye before something tugged the back of his neck and he heard the sound of loud, cracking gunshots, which sounded completely fake if anyone cared to listen. But that was unlikely, due to the way the crowd around him started scrambling and screaming.

“ _EVERYBODY EVACUATE THE AREA IMMEDIATELY_ ,” came the warbled, deeply altered voice to his left. He was only able to tell it was Pacifica operating the megaphone due to how much shorter she was from the second figure. The disguises were doing the trick. He twisted his lips at the sight of the manatee ski masks. Another brilliant idea from Mabel, he was sure. “ _FAILURE TO COMPLY AND WE'LL START BY SHOOTING HIM FIRST._ ”

“Act scared,” was whispered in his ear, and he felt Mabel press the tip of the fake gun to the side of his head. Trying not to roll his eye, he opened his mouth and sighed,

“ _Ahhhhh._ Ow. Watch the sunburn, Star.”

“You need to take some acting lessons,” Mabel mumbled, and then started leading him through the thinning crowd. Dipper's plan of using a hostage seemed to be working, as any security guards that approached them hesitated at the sight of him. He tried looking scared, but he wasn't sure it worked. He guessed it didn't matter, as they scattered the second Pacifica barked at them with her megaphone.

“ _Peacock_ to  _Eagle_ ,” Pacifica said into the walkie-talkie. “ _Sparrow's_  got the hostage, err …  _Vulture_ ,” she corrected under Bill's withering glare, “at spray-gun-point and is clearing out the area. We're moving to the next point. Over.”

“ _Copy that._ ”

“Come on,” Pacifica said as she pocketed the device. “We'll have to go through the Lost Forest if we want to get to the aquarium on time.”

“Got it.” Mabel pushed Bill forward, keeping one hand on his shoulder with the other holding the gun against his back. It didn't seem necessary to keep holding him like this, as the area was almost cleared, but whatever worked, whatever worked.

His mood had improved significantly now that the operation had started. Being included felt nice. The chaos around him was pretty nostalgic as well.

…

Once Dipper received the signal from Pacifica, he ducked into a Porto-Potty, locking it behind him. The smell made him nauseous, but he ignored the feeling, covering his mouth with his shirt and pressing his ear up against the door. Nothing happened at first, but then he heard raised yells from the workers, things like “ _gun threat_ ” and “ _evacuation_ ”. There was a scrambling, and it wasn't long before the voices were gone, leaving him in silence. He waited an extra few minutes just to be sure and then began changing into his secondary disguise.

 _This is it._ He paused to breathe.  _No going back._

He pulled out the mask.  _A manatee? Seriously, Mabel? Why did I let you pick out the masks?_ Sighing, he yanked the mask over his head.  _Better you than Bill, I guess, but still._

He peeked out of the Porto-Potty, and once he determined the coast was clear, he crept out and made a beeline for the tanks on the other side of the site. Dropping the bag, Dipper threw on his safety equipment and went for the plasma cutter. It weighed a good forty pounds. He had to strain to bring it up to the top of the truck with him.”

It was a struggle to work with the plasma cutter in the heat, especially after the difficult climb up. But it performed better than expected. By the time he was finished, he was ten minutes ahead of schedule.  _Perfect. Now to pry it open._

Dipper retrieved a crowbar from the construction site. He shimmied the crowbar underneath his cut, trying to find a spot with good leverage. With a grunt, he pushed down on the bar. It wouldn’t budge.  _Shit._ Breathing heavily, he tried again, bearing down with his entire body. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, and he was starting to get dizzy.  _Shit!_

Just as he was considering calling up Mabel, however, the crowbar pried open the lid with a  _pop!_ Releasing a large breath, he took a moment to recover before wresting off the remains. Mindful of the melted metal, Dipper kicked off the lid, where it banged on the broken concrete. Wincing, Dipper glanced around if anyone had heard that, despite knowing the park had to have been evacuated by now. Still, you never knew. A healthy dose of paranoia never hurt anyone.

Grabbing the plasma cutter, Dipper dashed towards the break room building. He melted the lock on the door before kicking it in, making his way into the locker room.  _218, 218, 218_ , he repeated in his head before he located Dave the truck driver’s locker. Cutting off the lock, he was ecstatic to find the keys were still there. He snatched up the keys and ran back outside.

“ _Eagle_ to  _Peacock_ ,” Dipper said into the walkie-talkie, scrambling into the driver’s seat. He put in the keys and revved the engine. It was a beautiful sound. “Got the truck and readying for transport. Are you in position?”

“ _This is Peacock_ ,” was the reply. “ _We’re near the tanks. You’re early, what gives?_ ”

“The plasma cutter worked better than expected,” he said with a shrug. “I’m on my way, hang tight. Over and out.”

“ _Over and out_.”

Maneuvering towards the service entrance was no easy feat. He tried to avoid running over the equipment that was left behind or anything that looked remotely expensive. But even Dipper’s driving abilities weren’t enough to bend the fabric of reality. A trail of debris followed him as he backed into the service entrance of the aquariums. He spotted three figures waiting next to the manatee tanks, one of them sitting down on the ground, wearing a … Halloween witch’s wig?

He  _definitely_ shouldn’t have left Mabel in charge of disguises.

When Dipper had parked as close to the side of the tank as he could, he threw the truck in park and hopped outside. The three looked over, and Bill perked up at the sight of him, flicking the hair out of his eye.

“Make any new friends, Pine Tree?” he asked as Dipper drew up next to him.

“Um. Yes, actually,” Dipper said, thinking of Dave. The guy seemed nice; Dipper hoped he wouldn’t get in trouble for his truck getting sliced open. He looked into the tank. “You guys find her yet?”

“Not yet,” said Pacifica, and Dipper deflated. “How are we supposed to identify her anyway? Can manatees understand English?”

“Oh yes they can,” said Mabel, her face smooshed against the glass. “Although the Queen’s English isn’t good. Spanish is her first language. Mermando had been trying to teach her, but he said she’s kind of stubborn about the whole thing.”

“Great gossip, Star,” Bill snapped from his place on the floor. “Now hurry up and find the stupid cow. It’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.”

Dipper shushed him, and then returned to looking at the tank. “Maybe we can flag her down?” he thought out loud, looking at a lumpy manatee than swam just in front of him. “Does she know, like, sign language or anything?”

“No …” Standing up, Mabel brought a hand to her chin. “But maybe …  _Oh!_ Idea.” Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a bent photograph. When she unfolded it, Dipper recognized Mermando, floating next to the Queen. It must have been a few years old, for Mermando looked younger than when Dipper last saw him.

“Where did you get that?” Pacifica asked.

“One of the guards gave it to me this morning after I sent my update. I figured it’d be good to have a reference.”

“Mabel, you’re a genius,” Dipper said. “Now …” He leaned closer towards the photo, scrutinizing the Queen. “It looks like her whiskers are a bit longer than the typical manatee, and there’s a mole on the left side of her snout. I think that’s a—”

But before he could finish, Mabel walked back up to the tank and pressed the picture onto the glass. She waved her arms, rapping the tank with her knuckles and bellowing, “ _Manati! MANATI! WE! ARE! HERE! TO! RES! CUE! YOU!_ ”

“What are you  _doing?_ ” Dipper asked, pulling his sister’s arm away from the tank. She glanced over at him with a wild look. “ _Not so loud_. Someone might hear you. Besides,” he gestured to a manatee that was swimming nearby, and he was sure they were giving them a dirty look, “you’re gonna give these guys a headache.”

“We need to get her attention, Dip. In case you have noticed, it’s a big tank, and sound doesn’t travel well through water.”

“I  _know_ sound doesn’t travel well through water, but there has to be a better way to go about it than this. How do you even know she’ll recognize her own face?”

“Oh what, just because she’s a manatee means she can’t recognize her own face? Don’t you think you’re being a  _little_ prejudiced?”

“ _No I am not_. The only animals recorded to be able to recognize their own face are humans, elephants, and dolphins and some monkeys.”

“Maybe that’s just because nobody checked if manatees could?”

“ _GUYS!_ ”

A second away from spewing steam from his nose, Dipper whirled around to Pacifica. She was looking into the tank and he followed her gaze. While the two have been bickering, a manatee had swum up to the group. It was noticeably larger than the rest and seemed to be staring at the photo Mabel held up. It pressed its nose against the glass, and Dipper didn’t think he had ever seen a manatee look so sad.

“Your Majesty?” Mabel asked, and then tried again a bit louder. “Manati?” A warbled groan answered them, and the manatee inched away from the glass, waving its flippers. Mabel brought the picture to her chest, smiling. “It  _is_ her.”

“Let me see.” Dipper took the picture from his sister, looking back and forth between it and the manatee before them.  _Yeah … it even has the mole on its left nostril …_ “Okay … We’re gonna wanna get her into the crane. The tarp is on the other side.”

“We’re going to get you out of here, Your Highness,” Mabel shouted through cupped hands. The Queen blinked at them, continuing her garbled noises. “I don’t think she understands.  _WE! ARE! GOING! TO—_ Um.  _TRUCK!_ ” Mabel pointed to the saltwater truck next to the tank. The Queen followed her hand. “We’re going to put you in, uh … Your Majesty?” The Queen continued to blink. “This isn’t working.”

“Does anyone know Spanish?” Pacifica asked. Mabel raised her eyebrows and then looked at Pacifica, who shook her head and shrugged. “I flunked out of my Spanish class.”

“Same here,” Mabel mumbled. “Dipper barely got a C.” She threw her head back and groaned. “Why doesn’t America make more of an effort to integrate languages other than English into their education system?”

“Oh  _move over_.” All three pairs of eyes locked on Bill as he hoisted himself up and nudged his way next to Mabel. “What do you want to say to her?”

Mabel blinked, sharing a glance with her brother before looking back to Bill. “You can speak Spanish?”

“It’s … rusty,” he said with a grimace. “But I’m sure I can get the message across. Hurry up, Star, we don’t have all day.”

“Right.” Mabel returned her attention to the tank. “Tell her we’re here on behalf of Mermando to rescue her.”

Bill sighed, seeming a second away from rolling his eye, but turned towards the tank. “Tu estúpido esposo nos envió aquí para rescatarte.”

“Okay, and tell her we’re going to lift her into the truck using the tarp and crane.”

“No tienes ni idea de los riesgos que tome para encontrar tu trasero grasiento,” Bill continued, his frown growing more pronounced. “Más vale que hables bien de nosotros y que nos des oro o algo porque este viaje ha sido horrible.”

The Queen blinked, bubbles escaping from her mouth as if taken aback. Mabel raised her hands. “It’s okay, I promise it won’t hurt or anything. We’re going to get you home to your husband and baby safe and sound.”

“Y como si no fuera suficiente ser regañado como un niñito, tuve que observar como las dos personas que más me importan fueron arrastradas abajo del océano.” Bill huffed. “¿Tu esposo es un demente, lo sabias? Deberías considerar un divorcio.”

“Wait,” Pacifica said, raising a brow, “did you just say something about a divorce?”

“No,” Bill said without looking away from the tank. He sighed, slumping his shoulders, and then continued, “But yeah, te vamos en poner en ese, uh … truck,” he gestured towards the saltwater tank, “y sacarte de aquí.”

Dipper regarded Bill suspiciously, but held his tongue, as the Queen seemed to understand him. She bobbed her head and blew more bubbles out of her nose before swimming over towards the truck.

“Perfect,” he said. “Nice work, Bill.” Bill beamed at him, and Dipper smiled. “I’ll operate the crane. Everyone else load up, we’re gonna be moving fast after this.”

They did as told, Mabel calling shotgun as Dipper dashed over towards the industrial crane. He hoped that they had enough time. So far they had been crashing through this plan, and he hoped their luck stayed with them.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dipper muttered to himself as he scanned the crane controls.  _First, I need to lower the tarp into the tank. The Queen should swim inside it once I do. If not, Bill can just explain it again._ He located what he thought was the drop down lever, but as he was reaching for it, he heard Pacifica say,

“What is she doing?”

Dipper looked up to see what she was talking about. The Queen was swimming around in a circle at the edge of her tank.  _What is she doing?_ Dipper furrowed his brow as she continued to circle. It almost looked like … she was gaining speed?

“She’s gonna jump,” Bill said suddenly and Dipper knew he was right, despite the fact that he was sure  _manatees couldn’t jump_. He held up his hands.

“ _Your Majesty—!_ ”

Too late. He watched in horror as the heap of gray blubber soared out of the water, barely clearing the top of the glass wall before clumsily clipping the welded edge of the saltwater tank and falling into the water with a  _slosh_. Dipper’s mouth fell open, heart hammering in his chest, and he scrambled to the edge of the crane lift. He tried to peek into the water, and hoped he wasn’t going to have to explain to Mermando how his wife had gotten sliced open by a truck.

He stared into the water, and he sighed with relief when a whiskered face surfaced. He couldn’t spot any cuts on her body or blood in the water. She seemed to be making an earnest expression at him, as if saying, ‘ _Well, don’t just stand there, boy, it’s time to get hustling!_ ’ He almost felt like lecturing her on how dangerous a stunt that was, but, frankly, he was too impressed.

He climbed back into the truck, slamming the door behind him and throwing the truck into drive.

Mabel was snickering. “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

“Idiot could’ve sliced herself open,” Bill mumbled as if the thought annoyed him more than anything else.

Pacifica shrugged. “Well, we’re almost twenty minutes ahead of schedule now. I’m not about to complain.

Smirking, Dipper led them out of the aquarium and towards the service exit. It wouldn’t be much longer now. They were almost home free.

The service exit led them through a forest area onto a narrow, dusty road. They had yet to remove their masks, although Bill tore off his wig and would have thrown it out the window if Dipper hadn’t have snapped at him. “We’re going to bury everything once we get back,” he said, much to Bill’s distress.

Mabel squirmed in her seat, giddy with excitement. “Oh man, we are going to throw the  _biggest_ party tonight. If only we had some vodka or something. And fireworks! We need fireworks.”

“Calm down, Mabel, we’re not out of this yet,” Dipper said, despite his small smile and his relaxed demeanor. “We still have a highway to cut through before getting to the drop-off.”

“And  _then_  we’ll be in the clear,” Mabel said, giggling.

“Yes, and  _then_ we’ll be in the clear.”

As they reached the end of the service route, Dipper spotted the path that led to Richmond Street. After that it would just be cutting through a few residential streets before they could make it to the highway. It would be around a leisurely 15 minute drive.  _Almost_. Easing up on the gas pedal, he craned his neck to get a better look at the street. He hoped nobody paid too much attention to the truck being driven by three masked figures. It would be suspicious, but it was still too risky to remove their masks just yet.  _Just a little longer._

They merged into the street without much fuss, and Dipper figured they were in the clear, but he tensed when Mabel took a sharp breath and grabbed his arm.

“ _Dipper_.”

He looked into the rearview mirror and his heart dropped. Two cop cars had been positioned just outside the exit road. Just when he dared to hope that they hadn’t been spotted. The red and blue lights snapped on and the sirens began wailing. The cop cars pulled out, and were headed right towards them.

Dipper swore under his breath. He had figured the police would be too concerned evacuating the pedestrians and sweeping the park to even think of considering the perpetrators might escape via the backroad service exit. He had been wrong.

“Hang on,” he said through gritted teeth, bearing his whole weight down on the gas pedal. The two cop cars flagged him and were gaining.  He thought he heard someone bellowing out of a speakerphone, but Dipper couldn’t hear through the buzzing in his ears. When one of the cars sped up on his left, Dipper tightened his fists. Without giving himself time to doubt, he swerved towards the car, just barely smacking into it. The rest of the passengers toppled in their seats, and Pacifica screamed.

“ _Dipper_ , what are you  _DOING—?_ ” Mabel yelled, tightening her grip on Dipper’s arm as he swerved again to the car on his right. It immediately backed off.

“I can’t let them overtake me,” he said, keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead of him. They were heading straight for the residential area. “ _Fuck._ ”

Dipper yanked the wheel, and the wheels screeched as the truck veered right onto the street. He pictured the map of San Diego in his head, envisioning the fastest routes and best shortcuts.  _The street is north of here._ Dipper swerved through the earliest break in the line of cars and into the yard. The tank of the truck barreled through one of the parallel parked cars.

“ _DIPPER—!_ ”

“ _It’s a nice looking neighborhood_ ,” he yelled to his sister. “I’m  _sure_ they have good insurance!”

The truck busted through wooden fences and back yards, and Dipper pressed onto the horn, alerting anyone nearby to their presence and hoping they knew to  _get the fuck out of the way_. They destroyed a trampoline and several plastic houses. The party was thrown repeatedly out of their seats, with Pacifica screaming at Bill to put on his seatbelt and Bill just screaming.

They emerged from the last yard and merged onto the main road. His window had been shattered and glass sprayed over him. He counted his lucky stars that he hadn’t killed anyone, even though he had caused hundreds of thousands of dollars in property damage.  _All the more reason to not get caught._

He could still hear sirens in the distance. “Are they still following us?”

Mabel glanced into the side mirror. “I don’t see them.”

“I think I bit my tongue,” Bill whimpered, on the verge of tears. Pacifica was holding her head out the window, and Dipper tensed when she gasped.

“Dipper, they’ve got a chopper.”

As soon as she said it, he heard the distant beat of helicopter blades. “ _PULL OVER!_ ” a distorted voice screamed. It wouldn’t be long before the cop cars found them again with that chopper tailing them. The street they were on was so narrow that there was no risk of being overtaken, but it was only a matter of time before they reached the turnpike where the cops would be free to corral him. He couldn’t let that happen. “ _Brace yourselves_.”

The other three cried out as Dipper swerved sharply to the left down a narrow alley. Pedestrians jumped out of the way. Dipper’s side mirror shattered on one of the walls and he cursed. He navigated the tight alley streets, trying to maintain his speed and taken the most southwestern routes available.

He turned out of the alleyway. Several other cars skidded to avoid him.  _Sorry!_ “We’re almost there,” he said.

“The chopper can still see us,” Pacifica said, and there was real fear in her voice. “What are we going to do once we reach the beach?”

“I don’t know,” he said, although that was a slight lie. If worse came to worse, he might be pushed to drive straight into the ocean. At least then the Queen was sure to be free and the humans released even if they got caught. That was only the worst case scenario. He turned the wheel and stomped on the gas pedal, wishing he were driving anything other than a 15 ton truck.

They were almost to the docks.

Concrete terraces rose on either side, a few bridges offering them cover from the chopper. He drove the truck down a dip in road, and saw a light shining on the other side. They crested the hill and Dipper slammed his foot on the break. The truck skidded to a halt.

"It's a blockade," he said, voice hollow.

Nearly ten cop cars were parked together on the road, sirens blaring and the red-and-blue lights blinding him. Just as he considered backing up, the cars that had been pursuing them skidded to a stop behind them. They were trapped.

“H-how … did they know we’d be here …?” Pacifica asked, a tremor in her voice.

Mabel shook her head, eyes narrowed. “They must have a really talented dispatcher or got really friggin lucky.”

One of the police officers approached them, holding a megaphone to her lips. “ _EXIT THE VEICHLE IMMEDIATELY_.” A wave of other police officers flagged her, dressed to their toes in body armor and aiming guns right at them. “ _GET OUT OF THE CAR AND GET ON THE GROUND_.”

“Dipper, what do we do?” Mabel whispered. Dipper licked his lips, staring at the wheel.  _Stay calm. Ford said a clear head can get you out of any problem._ Only Dipper couldn’t clear his head; his thoughts were a mix of swirling panic.

The cop ordered them out of the car again and Dipper flinched. Mabel let out a frustrated noise, and she pulled her “gun” out of her waistline. Before Dipper could realize what she was doing, she had already let out a shout and kicked open the door, jumping out of the car. “ _MABEL!_ ”

Mabel aimed the gun at the officer. “I’m not going to let you take her back, so why don’t you ju _AAAH!_ ” Two cops grabbed her from behind, knocking the gun out of her hands and forcing her onto the ground. “ _Bad plan, BAD PLAN!_ ”

 _What did you think was going to happen?_ Dipper wanted to scream, but was distracted by the sound of a cocking gun by his left.

“Hands off the wheel, son,” said the officer, training a Glock at Dipper through the broken window. Dipper put his hands up.  _Keep a clear head, keep a clear head, there has to be a way out of this, come on, come on …_

He glanced over his shoulder. Bill was hunched over, eye shut tight and clenching his fists. Pacifica was staring at Mabel, half standing out of her seat, poised to leap out of the truck to help her friend. Dipper looked back to the officer. His hands were steady, his eyes pure steel.

_What do I do?_

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes again, color had been bled from the world. He felt the familiar, woozy sensation of weightless deep in his chest. The entire world was gray. Birds and butterflies had been frozen in midflight. There was no wind.

The muscles of Dipper’s stomach tightened as he realized what had happened. Judging by the bewildered reaction of the officer out the window, he wasn’t the only one who had grasped that something had changed. The other cops muttered amongst themselves in agitation.

“ _Whoa_ ,” he heard Pacifica whisper. He turned around. Pacifica was staring out the window, face slack with shock and awe. He looked at Bill. Bill’s eye flitted around, and for a moment, he looked just a dumbstruck as Pacifica. But then his eye met with Dipper, and the expression melted away, replaced by a wide maniac smile.

“ _The show must go on._ ”

It was Bill’s voice but it didn’t come from his mouth. He vanished, and laughter echoed around the area. And then, as if the sun were extinguished, it went completely black.

“ _MABEL_ ,” Dipper yelled. He was no longer sitting in the truck. He ran forward, arm’s pushed out ahead. “ _Pacifica! Bill!_ ”  His feet clicked on the floor as if he were walking on tile, and he could hear the panicked murmurs and screams of the other cops, so he knew he wasn’t alone.

“Dipper?”

“Mabel? Is that you?”

“Over here, bro!"

He continued feeling around for his sister, bumping shoulders with more than one person. Suddenly, hands were groping his face, and the only reason he didn’t scream was because of the immediate, “Bro-bro? That you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He pushed the hands away from his face, maintaining a firm grip on his sister’s sleeve. “Where’s Pacifica? And Bill? We’re in the Mindscape, aren’t we?”

“I don’t think—”

Mabel was interrupted by the sound of a loud bang and a blinding puff of smoke. Next thing he knew, they were sitting in plastic chairs in an outdoor amphitheater. When Dipper looked around, he realized the chairs all around them at been filled with the police officers. The three of them had been placed in the front row.

“ _IT IS_ GOOD  _TO BE BACK, FOLKS._ ”

The curtains parted, accompanied by a rousing orchestra. There, high above the stage, Bill floated, dressed in the bright yellow tuxedo and black bowtie, sporting a tall black top hat. His expression was disturbingly elated as he slowly descended towards the stage. Muttering broke out amongst the crowd.

“ _Ta-da._ I made reality  _disappear._ ” He removed his hat with a flourish and took a low bow. “Turns out it was a trick this whole time. But first, let’s give a warm round of applause for our guests here today.” He flung the hat to his side, where it continued to float as Bill brought his gloved hands together. In a puff of smoke, hundreds of other hands appeared on stage, furiously applauding.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Dipper muttered to himself. Next to him, Pacifica was clapping. He nudged her shoulder, glaring at her.

“What? It’s impressive.” She shrugged, seeming wholly unconcerned with the idea of being trapped in a dream dimension under the exclusive control of a barely rehabilitated demon. Dipper huffed, slumping down in his seat.

Bill vanished the hands with a flick of his wrist.  With a snap, he had summoned a sleek, black cane, twirling it between his fingers. “Oh boy, I’m so lucky to have such a  _captive_ audience today.” He slapped his knee and chortled. He laughed for so long it became uncomfortable, and he wiped away a tear, sighing. “ _Aaaah._ We’ve got quite a performance planned for you this evening, so—”

A gunshot rang three consecutive times, and three bloody spots peppered Bill's chest. Dipper gasped, his entire body stiffening up. Bill’s face went blank crimson liquid stained his pristine suite. His blood dripped onto the floor.

“ _You’re under arrest_ ,” a voice in the back shouted, the quiver in their voice embarrassingly noticeable.

Bill blinked, and then blinked again. Then he sighed and shook his head. “Guess we’re going to have to speed things up a bit,” he said, descending until his feet almost touched the floor. He inspected the wound just over his heart. “Nice aim, kid. Still, do you know how difficult it is to get out bloodstains?”

With a quirked brow, he jammed his thumb and forefinger into the wound and ripped out a piece of cartilage. He examined it for a moment and then popped it into his mouth, chewing it briefly, and swallowing. Someone screamed, and Dipper was sure at least one person was losing their lunch.

“ _Bill_ , what are you  _doing?!_ ” Mabel asked. In the next second, Bill materialized before her, hovering just above her face as if he were lying on his stomach.

“Trust me Star. This is what I do.” He blinked, but Dipper was almost sure he had been trying to wink, and offered the three of them a small, reassuring smile. Then he dematerialized and the world flipped upside-down.

The police officers immediately fell out of their seats into the endless sky that had appeared before them. Their screams were unlike anything Dipper had heard before. He, Mabel, and Pacifica remained planted, although he was sure that wasn’t just because he was gripping onto his arm seats for dear life.

A few feet below, Bill was staring up at them, leaning against his cane. It looked like he was standing on solid ground, despite there being nothing but sky. “Well, come on then, we don’t have all day.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Pacifica was mumbling to herself.

“You’re  _insane_ ,” Dipper said, knowing it was pointless. Bill chuckled.

“I’m not dignifying that with a response. Now hurry up.”

But Dipper wouldn’t let go, no matter how much he told himself it wasn’t real, it was safe. All he could see was the endless void below him, and all he could hear was the screams of the police officers. In the end, it was Mabel who budged first. With a small, muffled yelp, she let go of the armrests. She only fell a few feet before her body abruptly righted itself and she landed right-side-up. Straightening up, she wiped her sweating hands on her pants, breathing heavily. “Jesus  _Christ_ , Bill.”

Pacifica was next, and just like Mabel, she was able to land squarely on her feet. Bill was staring up at him, a knowing smirk gracing his lips, and Dipper couldn’t help but sense the challenge there. Taking a deep breath, Dipper released his death grip on the armrests, and gravity yanked him down. His heart pounded in his chest. He somersaulted midair and landed with a gentle thud on his feet. Bill’s grin widened.

“Took you long enough.” Pulling back his sleeve, Bill glanced at a black watch on his left wrist. “Now let’s play some catch up.”

Without even the slightest warning, the four of them plunged downwards as if they were riding the world’s fastest elevator. It didn't even feel like they were moving. Still, the rushing colors was enough to make him nauseous and Mabel had to close her eyes, holding her head.

A few seconds later, they slowed down. They were falling parallel to the swarm of thrashing, shrieking police officers. 

“OK, FLESHBAGS,  _LISTEN UP._ ” Bill’s voice echoed fiercely throughout the void, and Dipper could hear it clearly over the screaming cops. “YES, REALITY IS AN ILLUSION, BUT I DIDN'T ACTUALLY MAKE IT GO AWAY. YOU'RE ALL JUST DREAMING. MORE ACCURATELY,  _I’M_  DREAMING, AND YOU'RE ALL STUCK HERE WITH ME. THOUGH, REALLY, IT LOOKS LIKE WE’RE HAVING TWO DIFFERENT KINDS OF DREAMS HERE. IT SEEMS LIKE I’M HAVING A FLYING DREAM, WHILE YOU’RE HAVING A FALLING DREAM. AND THAT’S REALLY INTERESTING, BECAUSE FLYING DREAMS CAN END WHENEVER, BUT  _FALLING_  DREAMS ONLY END WHEN YOU'RE ABOUT TO HIT THE GROUND. THE PROBLEM FOR YOU GUYS IS THAT THERE  _IS_ NO GROUND. I CAN  _MAKE_  SOME AND GET YOU OUT OF HERE. BUT  _ONLY IF YOU DO WHAT I SAY_.”

“ _Please_ …!” one of them begged, tears streaming from her face.

“ALRIGHTY.” He appeared below the falling officers, staring up at them with his hands behind his back. “I'LL MAKE SOME GROUND, BUT ONLY IF YOU AGREE TO WALK AWAY AND LEAVE  _THESE_ THREE PEOPLE,” he pointed towards Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica, “ALONE FOREVER WHEN YOU GET OUT OF HERE.” Bill snapped his fingers again and over a dozen hands shot out of his body, engulfed with blue flame. “DEAL?”

One by one, Bill shook hands with the officers. After pulling away from the last one, Bill dismissed the hands with a wave of his arm. He grinned, exposing all his teeth.

“I’ll hold you guys to it.” He giggled. “See you next fall.”

Bill snapped his fingers and the ground came rushing towards them.

With a gasp, Dipper opened his eyes. Bill’s laughter echoed in his ears. He was back in the driver’s seat of the truck. Pacifica was groaning behind him, and Dipper could see the police officer to his left cradling his head and wobbling. He looked over to where his sister had been tackled, and found the two cops that had pinned her were slowly backing away. She rose to her feet, patting the dust off of her clothes.

The police glanced at each other, expressions varying from confused and dazed to panicked and horrified. At least two had thrown up. Some immediately broke for their car and drove off. The helicopter flew away. Others walked as if in a daze, and slowly the crowd trickled down without one word spoken. After a few minutes, the trio were completely alone on the quiet, desolate hill.

“That … was …  _awesome_ ,” Pacifica said, right before kicking open the door and crawling out on wobbly legs. She doubled over and vomited onto the concrete. Dipper looked away, the retching sounds making him feel as if he were going to throw up too.

He turned back towards Bill. The escapade in the Mindscape had taken a noticeable toll on him. He leaned up against the car window, eye closed as he kneaded his forehead. He had become paler than a stick of chalk, and he seemed even smaller than before. Dipper wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think of anything. He turned back to the wheel as Mabel clambered into the car.

“Sooooo,” she began, picking at the chipped paint on the squirt gun, “to the beach, then?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah.”

He waited until Pacifica collected herself and reentered the truck before putting it in drive and continuing down the hill. They cut through Cornado Island in complete silence, with Dipper trying to process everything that had happened in the last five minutes. It felt like the more he thought about it, the less sense his made, and he was developing a swift headache to boot.

They were approaching the docks. There was only one thing left to do.

“Everybody out,” he said after he braked.

Pacifica was quick to hop out, with Mabel following after. Bill reached for the handle and was able to nudge the door open, but almost tumbled out onto the concrete. Dipper instinctively reached for him, despite being way out of reach. Thankfully, Mabel was there, helping him out onto his feet and taking his arm around her neck. She nodded at Dipper, and then closed the door and joined Pacifica a few feet away on the grass.

Dipper undid his seatbelt. This was it. The final step. Gently, he nudged the gas pedal until reaching about 30 MPH. Dipper opened the truck door, eyes on the ocean as he calculated in his head the best time to jump. He had almost reached the pier.

_Now!_

He leaped out of the truck, throwing himself onto the grass. His feet connected with the ground and he rolled through the momentum, pain singing up and down his legs. Straightening up, he turned towards the truck, and watched as it careened into the ocean and sank into the water. In a few moments, it was almost entirely submerged.

The other three joined him and together they walked towards the shore. Dipper spotted a gray blob swim away from the truck, and a whiskered nose surfaced. The Queen lingered for a moment longer, before disappearing under the ocean and vanishing.

“Is it over?” Pacifica asked, voice low.

Dipper held up a hand. “Wait for it …”

After a few long minutes, a figure emerged from the water, soaking wet and distinctly human. Two more followed suit. Dipper recognized surly Greg and the elderly Margaret, and realized the third person, a teenager by the looks of it, must have been Adriane. They all stumbled, their legs weak from weeks trapped underwater.

Greg approached the group, his expression a mixture of dazed shock and confusion. “You … it was you guys?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. That was us. You’re free to go, man.”

“Where’s Dr. Dunbar?” Mabel asked, still sporting Bill’s weight.

A flash of distaste crossed Greg’s face. “She said she didn’t want to leave, crazy bitch. Good riddance to her.”

Before Dipper could brace himself, Margaret had suddenly thrown her arms around him, squeezing him so hard he thought his eyeballs were going to pop out. “ _Thank you_ ,” she whispered. When she pulled away, she placed a kiss on his cheek. There were tears in her eyes.

“N-no problem,” he said, blushing fiercely. She smiled, turning to Pacifica and engulfing her, too, in a crushing hug. Pacifica stuttered, patting the elder on her back, shooting Dipper a desperate look. He shrugged.

Greg extended his right hand which, after a moment, Dipper took. “Thank you. I thought we were never getting out of there.” He turned to Mabel. She struggled under Bill’s dead weight for a moment before she let him take her hand as well. He chuckled. “I’m never going fishing ever again.”

Mabel snorted. “I’ll say.”

Finally, Adriane stepped forward. She must have been only thirteen years old, and looked more tired than a kid her age ever should. Dipper felt a dark surge of anger towards the King once more, but pushed it aside.

“Hey,” Mabel said, smiling. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Adriane shook her head, and sniffled. Tears fell down her cheeks. “Thank you for recusing us. I … I wanna go home so bad.”

Greg patted her on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion. “Me too, kid. Come on, let’s go dry off somewhere. I’m sick of saltwater.”

After all the gratitude had been exchanged, the trio became red to their ears in embarrassment. The only one who remained unaffected was Bill, but Dipper didn’t know if Bill was even lucid, so he supposed it didn’t count. Pacifica used her phone to call up a cab for the ex-hostages, and they all watched as they drove off and out of sight.

The four stood there, unsure of what to do next.

Dipper nodded. “ _Now_  it’s over.”

Mabel and Pacifica exchanged glances. Then, a wide smile slowly appeared onto their faces, and they let out a collected, ear piercing shriek.

“I cannot  _BELIEVE_ we pulled that off—!”

“Holy  _fuck_ , I didn’t even think we could make it into the construction site,  _but we still did—_ ”

“—but then  _YOU_ with the megaphone just  _barking orders_ , holy  _shit_ that was  _so sexy—_ ”

“—and she JUMPED  _INTO_  THE TRUCK, like,  _damn_ , that’s the most badass thing I’ve  _ever seen_ —”

“ _Aaaaaaaaghhh._ ” Bill groaned, covering his ear with one hand and pushing away from Mabel. “I don’t wanna be here anymore. Pine Tree, please …” He stumbled over to Dipper and practically fell into his shoulder, and Dipper was sure he would fall over if he stood on his own for too long. Dipper held back a laugh, patting him on the back.

“—and then Dipper, oh my  _flying fuck_ ,  _Dipper_ with his  _insane_ driving totally  _destroyed that neighborhood_ —”

“And then  _you_ ,” Pacifica broke out in laughter. “ _You_ with your  _fucking squirt gun_ just JUMPED out of the truck, like what the fuck?”

Mabel sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, laughing. “Yeah, that wasn’t my best idea, but I couldn’t think of what else to do! But then  _Bill_  …” Mabel’s mouth made a perfect ‘o’, and she breathed sharply.

“I know, right? Like, that was probably the fre—” she turned towards Bill, “—that was probably the freakiest, most  _awesome_ thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. And you  _totally_ got our asses out of that mess; we would have  _so_ gotten caught.”

“You certainly seemed to have fun with it, too,” Dipper said with an eyebrow raised.

Mabel punched him in the shoulder.

“Ah, lay off him already, bro-bro,” she said. “He totally earned this.”

“I know, I know!” Dipper said earnestly, rubbing his shoulder. “I was just, uh …” He sighed. “Never mind. Yeah, you did a good job, Bill.” He turned to Bill and smiled. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

For a second, a small smile curled Bill’s lips. He looked down at his feet, rubbing his nose. “Of course you couldn’t’ve,” he said. “And don’t expect any repeat performances, alright? I’m serious, kid. Now, come  _on_  already, I’m literally about to die from hunger.”

Dipper scoffed. “That’s not what literally means—”

“I was a demonic abomination that defied all human understanding, Pine Tree,  _I’ll_ decide what literally means, now  _shut your fucking face_ and _feed me already._ ”

“It’s time to party!” Mabel said as they began their walk back towards the main roads. When they got far enough away from the site, they called up a cab, and soon they were making their way back to Pacifica’s beach house. 

Five minutes into the car ride, Bill passed out on Dipper’s shoulder. 

…

As Dipper and Pacifica arranged the box to be buried, Mabel dug the hole in the beach. Once it was deep enough that she was entirely submerged, they helped her out and threw the box into the ground. It was all the physical evidence of their involvement with the theft of the manatee at the San Diego zoo. Well, not the plasma cutter. Mabel begged to keep it, said she could use it for future art projects. Pacifica let her have it, much to Mabel’s delight.

It took about an hour. While they had worked, Bill had hung back on the patio, looking tired and ghastly. To be more precise, Bill had looked as if his soul had been sucked out of his mouth by a vacuum cleaner. Dipper had made a sandwich for him and it seemed to help perk him up, but he still had been unable to finish it.

Pacifica suggested that all he needed was rest.

When the afternoon melted into dusk and stars started dimpling the sky, they gathered around the fire pit on the back patio. Mabel and Pacifica sat on one side of the couch with Bill and Dipper across from them. Pacifica dropped a few bricks of fire logs, after taking the briefest of moments to explain how they’re  _so_  eco-friendly, and Mabel used a lighter to get the fire started. As the fire spread , Dipper was bathed in warmth and he sighed in content, feeling as if though the stress of the day were melting off of him. 

For a while, the four of them sat around and just talked. The girls had managed to convince Dipper to share what had happened while scoping the construction site.

“… so then I knocked on the door and the guy was the one who opened it. And when he asked me what I wanted, I guess I sort of panicked here, this French accent just came out of me. And the funny part was, I think he totally bought it.”

Mabel was snickering from across the pit. “Seriously? You’re  _terrible_ at accents.”

“Come on, Dipdop, what did it sound like?” Pacifica asked.

“No, really guys, it was  _really_  bad …”

“That’s why we have to hear it,” said Mabel. Dipper sighed, shaking his head before clearing his throat.

“Bonjour, my name iz Dippor Pines, do you ‘ave a moment to discuss ze magazine? It would only be a moment of your time.”

“Wow, you’re right, that was pretty rotten,” Pacifica said through a snort while Mabel had doubled over with laughter.

“Well, apparently it emulates a southern dialect so, you know,” Dipper shrugged, “bite me.”

“P-Pacifica,” Mabel began, wiping a tear from her eye, “can’t you speak French?”

“Sort of. I haven’t practiced in ages, so I’m probably not that good.” Pacifica brought a hand to her cheek, humming to herself. “Umm … Bonsoir, je m'appelle Pacifica. Je viens d’Oregon. Enchantée!” Pacifica paused, looking to the sky as if considering something, before continuing, “Je veux économiser de l'argent pour mon marché d'arts, mais c'est très difficile de ne pas dépenser pour des choses inutiles. Tous les vêtements que je porte coûtent plus que ta maison.” Leaning over, she whispered to Mabel in a conspiratorial manner, “Quand j’étais jeune, je croyais que ton frère était mignon. Ne le lui dis pas.”

Mabel giggled. “I have no idea what she just said.”

“You learned French but not Spanish?” Bill asked, and Dipper looked over towards him in surprise. He hadn’t spoken since they had got back.

Pacifica shrugged. “My parents had a hard-on for France. Germany, too. What about you, Bill? How many languages do you know?”

Bill’s eye widened a bit and he straightened up, as if he hadn’t been expecting a question. “Um. All of them?”

“ _Whaaaa?_ ” Mabel gasped, sparkles in her eyes. “Speak Finnish. No _,_ Chinese! No,  _Mandarin_ Chinese.”

Bill blinked rapidly, and a deep red crawled up his neck. “I-I mean, it’s been kind of difficult lately, remembering every—” Gulping, Bill shot Pacifica a desperate look. Pacifica’s eyebrows went up, but for some reason or another, she seemed to understand.

“So Bill,” she said, leaning forward. “What’s the best food you’ve eaten since getting your body?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, with no small amount of relief. “It’d have to be a tie that Indian takeout we had for dinner that one time or Pine Tree’s spaghetti.”

“ _What?_ ” Mabel said. “What about my purple scones? You said they were smack-o-licious.”

“She asked for my favorite, Star, it was very specific. But your omelets are easily in my top five.”

Mabel huffed, and then crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. Dipper rubbed the back of his head, sheepish. Pacifica chuckled.

“You know, I remember there was this awesome seafood place just outside of Gravity Falls that made the  _best_ salmon I have ever tasted. You should check it out.”

Bill made a face of revulsion. “Seafood is one of the most disgusting things humanity has ever produced, and that’s including solid waste.”

“Are you  _serious?_ ” Pacifica said, eyes wide. “Seafood is  _delicious._ Have you even tried lobster?”

“Mmm, I dunno Paz,” Mabel said. “Seafood is pretty nasty. One time I ate an oyster and my stomach launched a full-fledged rebellion against me for days. I’m with Bill on this.”

“Except that you’re  _wrong,_ sis,” Dipper said, shaking his head. “ _My_ favorite food has to be those king crab legs from that shack we went to with Mom that one summer. Oh man, I still have dreams about it. Bill, you’re not allowed to make a final judgement on seafood until we get you to that crab shack.”

“Too late, Pine Tree. Mind’s already made up. You tried to feed me that tuna sandwich once and the smell alone made me want to gag. Seafood is the literal worst.”

“That’s not what literal means—”

“I will  _literally_ bite your mouth off, and  _yes_ , I am using it correctly.”

The four of them continued their chat long after the sun had set. The night sky was a near black with only a few stars able to pierce the light pollution of San Diego. A rush of homesickness went through Dipper, and he couldn’t wait to return to his own starry sky. But for now, he was content being surrounded by his friends. It came as a small shock they he had included Bill in that category.

Bill, for his part, looked the best Dipper’s seen him all weekend, despite still being as pale as death. Even then, the firelight restored some color to his face and his eye seemed a bit brighter. The contrast made Dipper realize how miserable and lonely Bill had looked since day one. He had noticed, but he hadn’t cared to ask, and it made him feel rotten all over again.

Then, Mabel found a live stream of a news broadcast on her phone. She gathered everyone close so they could watch it. The reporter was discussing how a gun threat had been made at 2:23 PM at the San Diego zoo earlier that day. A truck had been stolen and one of the manatees was taken. When one of the police officers involved was questioned about the perpetrators, she said,

“We pursued, but they evaded us.” There was a hollow, glazed look to her eyes. “We never saw their faces.”

The reporter closed with a catchy one-liner and the channel moved onto the next segment. Mabel held her hand out, and Pacifica high-fived her.

“It’s official,” Pacifica said. “We got off scot-free.”

“Hell yeah we did!” Mabel threw her hands up, throwing an impromptu dance party. “We need some serious alcohol for this, it’s the only way to truly commemorate our victory. And we still need fireworks!”

“Oh, I know a guy that can totally hook us up with some with some liquor.”

“Even though you’re under 21?”

Pacifica nodded. “There’s an extra security fee, but he’s got some great wares.”

“And the fireworks?”

“He works next to a fireworks warehouse.”

Mabel had to bite back a scream of joy. “I am  _in_. Dipper, are you in?”

Dipper had to think about it for a bit. He didn’t particularly like drinking, especially not as heavily as his sister. But he felt like it was a good night for it. “Sure. I won’t drink too much though.”

“That’s cool. Bill, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Mabel said, and then she snickered. “Oh man, you seem like you’d be the funniest drunk, too.”

Bill regarded her with eyebrows drawn, suspicious. “Alcohol is that thing that’s made from rotten fruit and wheat, right?”

“Yup,” Mabel said.

He paused to think about it, scrubbing his jaw. Then, he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

Mabel took a brief moment to pump her fist. “Oh man, if this is anything like Mabel Syrup and the caffeine it’s gonna be  _hilarious_.”

“What happened with the caffeine?” Pacifica asked, but Mabel shook her head.

“I’ll tell you on the way. Dipper, Bill, you wanna tag along?”

“Pass,” Bill said almost instantly. Dipper thought about it for a moment, but then held up his hand.

“Same here. See you guys later.”

“See you.”

“Later, bro-bro. Bill, be good.”

After exchanging their goodbyes, the girls left for Pacifica’s BMW. Dipper could hear them squealing out the driveway. It was shaping up to be a wild evening, especially if they could really get their hands on some vodka. He supposed a wild evening was the only way to end a wild day.  _A wild vacation_ , he thought, lips twisting. Mermaids, manatees, kidnapped victims, and Bill had to do yoga. This one was definitely a shoe-in for the history books.  _Oh, speaking of …_

“How was yoga with Pacifica?”

“Hmm?” Bill looked up, slightly dazed. It was clear he had been deep in thought. “Oh, that. Yeah, it was probably the worst experience I’ve ever submitted myself to. Exercise is awful.”

“Really?”

Bill glanced over at him, and his tightened lips indicated he was trying to force down a smile. He sighed. “I guess, it wasn’t that bad. Probably would have been better if Blondie wasn’t such a rotten teacher. And that’s not me being vindictive, I swear it."

“Relax,” Dipper chuckled, patting Bill’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Pacifica’s the worst at teaching. She tried to teach me and Mabel yoga too, and I almost ended up dislocating my knee.”

Bill frowned, close to a pout, and then looked back down at his twiddling thumbs. Dipper’s own smile faded away. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“That’s good. You’re looking a lot better. You looked like a ghost earlier.”

A small smirk graced Bill’s lips. “I felt like a ghost.”

“Yeah … it has been an  _insanely_ long weekend, hasn’t it?” Again, Dipper was hit by another bout of homesickness. “I hate being away from the Mystery Shack for too long. As a kid, having to leave for school was the worst.”

“I can imagine.” Dipper turned to Bill, and the small smirk had turned into something wistful. Bill released a deep breath. “Yeah, I wanna go back, too.”

“The trip didn’t take too much out of you, did it?”

“Nope.”

Dipper leaned forward in his seat, trying to figure out how best to say what was on his mind. He licked his lips. “Listen … about what happened after dinner …”

Bill made an exasperated noise, drawing a hand across his face. “Look, Pine Tree, I know you’re mad—”

“No, that’s not it. I’m not mad anymore, I promise.” Bill was shaking his head, clear he didn't believe him. Dipper slid onto the opposite couch, sitting directly across from him. He said as soft as he could manage, “I’m not mad. Look, Bill, we both made some mistakes this weekend. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, especially since it was partly my fault.”

“Don’t be such a martyr,” Bill said with distaste. His voice was rough and low, as if he were incredibly tired. “You said it yourself, Pine Tree, I shouldn’t have felt the way I did—”

“I wasn’t mad that you felt that way. People get jealous and insecure all the time. I was just … mad how you chose to handle it.” Dipper shrugged. “I shouldn’t have been ignoring you in the first place, and I shouldn’t have gotten so belligerent. So I'm sorry. About what I said, about how I acted.

"And, well, I'm not quite sure how to say this,” Dipper continued briskly, unable to get the words out fast enough. “The thing is, you've really done a lot for us lately. Like,  _a lot_ a lot. You went out and found us in the middle of the ocean and then you saved us all from those cops. I know you were against this trip from the start, and that you were scared,” Bill’s nose scrunched up, but Dipper kept talking, “but you still helped us anyway. That’s … pretty noble of you.”

“Okay, Pine Tree, that’s—"

Dipper held up a hand. “Not finished.” Bill blinked, and then rolled his eye and settled back down. Dipper smiled softly. “You might not be used to thinking this way, but I don't believe you could do all that for just yourself. Being in that body is changing you in some ways. Big ways. You're a lot better than you were before. No offense.”

Dipper expected Bill to make some snarky comment or at least shrug. But Bill didn’t say anything. His eyebrows had drawn together, as if he something heavy were on his mind. Dipper released a long sigh, trying to piece together everything else he had to say.

“What I'm trying to get to is that I'm thankful for everything you've done, and that I was hoping we could put all this behind us and, I mean, I dunno … just be friends or something?”

“ _Friends?_ ” Bill said, eye widening. He brought a hand to his chin. “I don’t know, kid, you’re asking for a lot here. You’d have better luck asking for my kidney or something.”

Ah, there was the sarcasm. Dipper chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t think this isn’t weird for me too, Bill.”

“Well, gee. You’ve got me backed into a corner here. If I’m not your friend, I’m in trouble. You cook all my food.” Dipper responded with a light kick to Bill’s shin, eliciting a whine. Then, Bill lowered his head for a moment, and then glanced back up at him. “You’ve got my hands tied, kid. Guess we’re just gonna have to be friends.”

“Guess so.” Some of Mabel’s words from the other day came back to Dipper, which prompted him to add, “Friends talk to each other about what’s bothering them, so … let’s try doing that from now on, okay?”

Bill didn’t react to that beyond looking down at his hands again, his eyebrows drawing together once more. Dipper could see an internal struggle painted all over his face, but restrained from prodding. He didn’t want to risk closing Bill up on him, not now.

But he was rewarded for his patience when Bill said, voice a half whisper, “You know … Blondie made a rather astute observation yesterday.”

Dipper leaned forward, intrigued. “What was that?”

“She mentioned how, ah … the physiology of the human brain, and how it typically tends to work. You know, chemicals and stuff. And, uh … it made me realize that I had never had to deal with that as a, um, ethereal being.”

Bill paused to take a shuddering breath, and he hugged his knees to his chest.

“And now everything sort of makes sense. Everything feels so different from before. And it … I’ve always had perfect control over what I thought and how I acted, but ever since getting this body, that’s changed. I get angry when I know it’ll just make things worse, and sometimes I get uneasy and nervous despite there being no logical reason for it. And the thing with Blondie … it felt like she was better than me at everything, and you guys were so chummy with each other and had been friends for so long. You offered her a place back at the Shack and I thought you were going to replace me with her, and I couldn’t think of a good reason of why you shouldn’t.”

“Bill—”

Bill made a noise of disgust, throwing up his left hand.

“ _See!_ This is what I’m talking about.” He gestured to his watery eye. “I didn’t want to do that! What benefit could I possibly gain from crying right now?  _None._ But I still can't stop it!”

“ _Bill_. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Bill kissed his teeth and settled back down, vibrating with frustration. “Everything is so much more intense now. Even the anger. And it’s … scary. I hate it.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re exactly alone,” Dipper muttered, and Bill fixed him with a sharp, wet glare. He shrugged. “It’s all a part of being human Bill. Anger, anxiety, loneliness, insecurity … I feel all those things at least fifty times a day.” He smiled, hoping to get a chuckle out of Bill. After a second, a stubborn smile broke on Bill’s lips and he snorted. It filled his chest with warmth. “But it’s not all bad, Bill. There’s more to being human than that.”

“… I suppose that’s true.” Wiping his eye, Bill leaned forward towards Dipper again. “You’ve also got a short lifespan and the inevitability of death, fragile bodies, zero purpose in life—”

“ _No_ , Bill. I meant positive things. Take food, for instance. You love food. And then there’s music.” Dipper smiled, feeling a warm, fuzzy nostalgia. “And there’s the smell of cookies fresh from the oven. Sleeping in while it’s raining outside. That feeling you get when you make someone smile. Laughing.”

“I could laugh before, Pine Tree,” Bill mumbled, with much less conviction.

“Ah, but when you laughed, did it trigger endorphins in your brain that made it feel like you were on feel good drugs?”

“I … no,” Bill said with a pout. “No it did not.”

“All I’m saying, is that there are a lot of simple pleasures that make life worth living. You can experience things like euphoria and happiness and pleasure. Even things like sadness and fear can be good for you too, if you keep them in check. And when things get really bad, you won’t be alone. You’ll have Mabel and Pacifica and me.”

Bill huffed, sitting back in his chair. “That was quite a speech, Pine Tree.”

“Heh. I am known for my excellent speeches.” 

Bill hmm’d thoughtfully. 

Dipper didn’t feel like sitting down anymore. He could hear the sound of the ocean’s waves in the distance, and it gave him an idea. “Hey, you still wanna learn how to swim?”

Bill looked up so fast it seemed like he almost broke his neck. His eye was wide, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Then he jumped to his feet. “ _Yes_.”

Dipper laughed, tickled by Bill’s enthusiasm. He stood up as well. “Okay, then. I’ll go get some swimsuits—”

“No time for that.” Bill had already ripped off his eyepatch and started clawing off his jacket, trying to yank it over his head.

“Uh, okay, I guess that’ll work. Just,  _please_ keep your pants on, alright?” Dipper unbuttoned his shirt as he made his way towards the pool and tossed it onto the couch. When he looked back, Bill was still fighting his jacket and shirt, his head trapped somewhere in the fabric. “I’m impressed, Bill. You’re fighting a shirt and the shirt is winning.”

“This isn’t the time for games, Pine Tree!” Bill snapped, his voice muffled under the jacket. Dipper walked back towards him. Grabbing the top of his clothes, he yanked it over Bill’s head with an audible  _pop!_ Bill shook himself and straightened back up, smacking his chest. “Ha! What’s impressive now, Pine Tree?”

Dipper tightened his lips, slightly shaking his head.  _You, Bill. It’s still you._  His eyes followed where Bill’s hand had rested. Dipper hadn’t seen Bill shirtless since he had been in the hospital. Back then the scars on his chest had been freshly stitched and looked horrifying. The difference now was substantial. They had faded into a light, dusty pink. They actually looked pretty cool and interesting, going across his chest like that. He looked a lot healthier now, maybe even a little stronger. Those chores must have been doing him some good. Dipper could definitely see some muscle on his back and his—

Bill snapped his fingers just in front of his eyes. “Uh, Pine Tree? Earth to Pines?”

Dipper blinked. Oh God, how long had he been standing there staring? “S-sorry,” he said, dragging his hand over his face. Damn, this day must have taken a bigger toll on him than he had first thought. “Come on, let’s get started before the girls come back.” His pants felt a bit tighter than usual.

It has been a  _really_ long day.

“No need to tell me twice.” Bill raced towards the pool, snickering. Releasing a long, slow breath, Dipper turned heel a moment later and followed after. Once he reached the edge of the pool, he plugged up his nose and jumped feet first into the pool. The pool heater must have been turned on because it felt like he was swimming in a warm bath.

When he surfaced, he spun around, expecting Bill to be in the water next to him. Instead, he found him still looming on the deck, staring into the water with an unreadable expression.

Dipper swam closer to him. “You coming in or what?” He flicked some water towards his legs. “The temperature's perfect.”

Bill looked towards him, and then looked away just as quickly. Then, he said in a voice so soft Dipper almost missed it, “Please don’t let me drown.”

Dipper chuckled, and then smiled patiently. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let you drown.”

“Okay. Good.”

Bill settled down on his haunches then dipped his legs into the water one at a time. He tensed when the water hit his stomach, and when he was entirely submerged, he hung onto the wall. He sunk, feet flailing as he tried to ground himself. “Aah. Pine Tree, I can’t reach the bottom.”

“The shallow section’s over there. Shimmy your way over.”

Bill did as told, taking his sweet time with it. Dipper swam next to him, endlessly amused by Bill’s sudden need to be cautious. When Bill’s feet could finally reach the pool floor he released a deep breath, letting go of the wall.

“Okay. Now what?”

Dipper shrugged. “Not sure. How much do you know?” At Bill’s blank look, he tried again. “Start with floating on your back.”

“How do I do that?”

“Umm. I can’t really explain it.” Instead, Dipper opted to show him, kicking up his legs and relaxing as the water pushed him up. “Like that. See? Just relax.”

“Oh. Okay, uh …” He heard a splash. “Ah,  _ah_ —”

Dipper straightened up “You’re okay.” Bill had done as told. His face was scrunched up as the water crept up his cheeks. “It’s okay, human bodies can float. You’re fine.”

Bill still didn't look reassured. Dipper leaned forward and put his hands underneath Bill’s back, holding him up ever so slightly. Bill sighed with relief and opened his eyes a little.

“That’s kind of cool, I guess …” he said, a trace amount of panic in his voice.

“Try to relax, Bill …”

Dipper held him like that for a few moments, waiting for Bill to get used to the sensation of floating. Once Bill started breathing evenly again, he figured it was time to move on. “Alright. Now, I want you to start kicking. I’m going to let you go for this, okay?”

“Okay …”

Dipper let go, and Bill flailed for a moment at the loss. But he just as quickly started kicking, splashing Dipper in the face and reeling away.

“See? You’re doing great?”

“Yeah. Okay. Okay. Ah. Okay. Okay …”

Bill continued mumbling to himself as he kicked his way across the pool. Dipper figured he’d stop before hitting the wall, but was proven wrong when Bill’s head ran smack into the concrete. Bill hissed under his breath, straightening up and rubbing what was sure to become a bump later.

“Well done,” Dipper said, smirking.

Bill glared at him. “Thanks for the warning.” And it made Dipper a little guilty, but not enough to stop smiling. “What’s next?”

“Alright, now you’re gonna wanna do that again, but on your stomach …”

They spent the next half hour in the pool together, Dipper teaching Bill basic stroke forms and how to tread water. He noted with some relief that his teaching seemed to be working, as Bill seemed a little more confident. He ran into the wall at least two more times, though, and the second time Dipper laughed so hard Bill retaliated by trying to dunk him. He failed, not even able to budge Dipper out of place, and in return was grabbed and dunked himself. He scrambled out of the water then, spluttering and cursing, and Dipper had to spend ten minutes convincing him he hadn’t been trying to drown him before he sulkily returned.

Dipper had been in the middle of teaching Bill how to stay under the water when the girls returned.

Mabel squealed, brandishing a bottle of vodka. “Knock knock, everybody, cousin Ivanov is here to party!” The clear liquid sloshed in the hammer-shaped bottle, obvious that someone had already cracked it open. It wasn’t hard to imagine who.

“She took it straight,” Pacifica whispered, crouching to the two of them. She held a few other drinks ranging from sodas to cranberry juice. “It was horrifying.”

“Mabel, you could have at least  _tried_ to pace yourself,” Dipper said, pulling himself up onto the pool wall. After a moment, Bill followed suite, though with far less grace and requiring Dipper’s help to keep from falling back in. “At this rate by the time the rest of us catch up you’ll have already blacked out.”

“Don’t worry, Dipperdoodle, I’ll pace myself. Starting now.” Mabel hiccupped, and then sat down next to Pacifica, putting down her bottle and four shot glasses. “But this isn’t about  _me_. This is, this is about the uninitiated. Bill!”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Pick your poison,” she said, giggling as she gestured to the line of other drinks. “It’ll be easier for the vodka to go down if you mix it with something else.”

“Uuhh …” Bill glanced over at Dipper, a silent plea for help.

Dipper hummed in thought, bringing a hand to his chin. “Personally I’d go with either the orange or cranberry juice.”

Bill shrugged. “Sure. Guess I’ll go with the cranberry stuff.”

“I’ll go with the cranberry, too,” said Dipper.

After a moment of thought, Pacifica said, “I’ll have the lemon-lime soda.”

Mabel nodded. “ _Excellent_.”

Taking a few moments to pour everyone’s drinks, Mabel gave everyone their glass. Bill's serving was noticeably smaller. “Okay Bill, what you’ll wanna do is try to swallow that stuff as fast as you can, alright?”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“On three, everybody. One, two …  _three!_ ”

They all threw back their heads, downing the shot. The liquid burned like acid down Dipper’s throat and he gasped upon resurfacing. Bill spat up his drink over the whole party. Everyone covered their faces a moment too late.

“Ew,” Pacifica said, wiping the backwash off of her legs.

“Holy …  _fucking_ God,” Bill snapped, coughing up what sounded like a lung. Dipper patted him on the back. “Are you trying to poison me or something?”

“You didn’t swallow fast enough,” Mabel said, shaking her head. “Okay, here’s what you did wrong. Hold the glass by the bottom, okay, and just  _throw_ you head back. Don’t even let it touch your tongue, j-just let gravity take care of it.” She held up the cranberry bottle. “Wanna try again?”

Bill huffed. “What’s the point of this?”

“It makes you feel pretty good,” Dipper said, “although you shouldn’t drink too much, and you need to drink a lot of water. It doesn't hurt to eat bread, too.”

“Trustme, Bill,” said Mabel, swaying where she sat. She patted him his knee. “It feels  _greeaaat._ ”

“Is that so?” Bill looked into his shot glass. Then he sighed and held out his glass. “There’s got to be some kind of reward for putting yourself through this. Humans can’t be  _that_ dense.”

“ _Whoo!_ ” Once again, Mabel refilled everyone’s glass and when she returned them, she held up her own. “Again. Three, two,  _one!_ ”

Dipper hesitated on his drink, instead choosing to watch Bill. Bill had done as Mabel suggested, holding the glass by the bottom. He threw his head back so hard he thought he would fall over into the pool. Bill’s expression became pained, but after a second, he gulped.

“You did it!” Mabel cheered, bringing her hands together. With a chuckle, Pacifica started applauding as well. Bill glared at them, as if he wasn’t sure they were kidding or not. Dipper smiled softly, and then downed his own drink as well. 

“Congratulations, Bill," said Pacifica. "You’re now an initiate.”

That was enough to make Bill lower his guard, and he smiled ever so slightly.

After Mabel had dished out the third round, she held up her glass. “A toast!” she declared. “To building new bridges!”

“Here, here.” Pacifica clinked Mabel’s glass to her own.

Dipper nodded, clinking his glass as well. Bill hesitated for a moment, but then brought his glass forward. Mabel whooped and without even prompting anyone, she downed her glass. Dipper shook his head, but quickly did the same. Bill took a bracing breath, and then downed his second drink, his face that of pure agony.

“This better be worth it,” he muttered darkly.

“Oh, it will be,” said Pacifica, and she winked.

By the time they got to drink four or five, with Dipper forbidding Mabel after her third shot so she wouldn’t black out or die, Pacifica suddenly snapped her fingers. “Oh! Mabel, the fireworks.”

“Oh!” The last few shots had yet to set in, so Mabel was able to jump to her feet without completely wiping out.  _It's only a matter a time,_ Dipper thought. He’d _really_ have to remember to keep everyone hydrated.

As Mabel dashed towards the front of the house, Dipper turned to Bill. “How are you feeling, man?”

“I don’t know. Kind of warm, I guess?” He paused to take a long drink of his cranberry juice, collecting his thoughts. “It feels kind of like that drug the hospital gave me after the rougaru incident. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, by the way.”

“Oh, the  _rougaru incident_ ,” Pacifica said with intrigue. “You mentioned that earlier. What happened?”

“It’s a long story, Blondie,” Bill replied, sounding like a tired old man. He brought the fifth drink to his lips, but Dipper gently pressed his hand back down.

“You’re gonna wanna go easy on that. I think you’ve had enough for now.”

“But I don’t feel that different, Pine Tree. This suffering isn’t going to be for nothing.”

“Give it time. It takes a few minutes to settle. You’ll be feeling it soon, trust me.”

“Okay,  _okay_ ,” Pacifica said, pulling herself onto her knees and leaning forward, “but what happened with the rougarus?”

“Alright, Blondie, here’s what happened. It all started when this nitwit over here—”

“But  _who cares about that?_ ” They all looked up to Mabel walking back onto the patio, carrying an armload of frighteningly large fireworks. She dumped it onto the concrete, and held her hands high above her head. “Uncle Sam came to visit and he wants to  _blow. Shit. Up!_ ”

“Please don’t blow anything up,” Pacifica said in a wobbly voice. “Fire doesn’t really go with those curtains.”

“Okay, Pacifica.  _Wink wonk_.” Mabel started giggling, and then belched. She then threw her arms out. “Enough of this  _chitchat_ , let’s light these babies! Dipper, c-could you get me the lighter please?”

Dipper nodded, and then pushed himself onto his feet. Bill got up next to him, but then almost lost his balance. Dipper put his hand up, although it proved unnecessary when Bill was able to catch himself.

“ _Whoa_ , whoa … okay …” Bill blinked, and then shook himself. “The world kind of went swirly for a moment.”

And Dipper chuckled, smirking. “You’re going to feel  _real_ good in a few minutes. Here,” ducking down he scooped up the water bottle. “Stay hydrated. You’re gonna want that for tomorrow morning.”

“Why? W-what happens tomorrow morning?”

“If you drink enough water, hopefully nothing. But Mabel’s right,” Dipper said before Bill could get a word in edgewise, “enough chitchat. Let’s go set off some fireworks.”

“Hmph.” Bill rubbed his hands together, a wide grin on his lips. “Giant pretty explosions and fire? You’re speaking my language, Pine Tree.”

…

The party proceeded without a hitch. The fireworks that the girls had bought were dazzling and beautiful. And, the best part, Bill was well and truly drunk.

“—so while  _fuckin_ Dipshit over here was, was standing there with his thumb up his ass,” Bill was saying, sitting on the couch next to Pacifica. The pupil in his left eye was blown open wide, “this giant hairy werewolf knockoff was charging at him, so  _fuck_ , what the  _fuck_ was I supposed to do, just let him, just stand there while his insides become outsides,  _no_ , because I knew Mab- I knew,  _Ssssssshooting_  Star would turn me into a fuckin taxidermy doll. So I jump into the fray and kicked his flat ass out of there.”

“You  _sacrificed_ yourself for h-him.” There were tears in Pacifica’s eyes and her voice trembled with emotion. She sniffed, rubbing her eyes. She, too, was hopelessly drunk. “You almost  _died_ for him, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard—!” She leaned forward, throwing almost all her weight onto Bill’s knee. “I’m  _so sorry_ I punched you …”

Bill pushed her away with visible disgust. “You are not  _sorry_ , you liar.”

“Yeah … yeah, you’re right. S-s-so what happlened, what happened after that?”

Dipper, who was by far the most sober one there, listened to the conversation, lips curling with amusement. He refrained himself from correcting Bill on a few points during his story, like when he said Dipper had shit his pants at the sight of the perytons, because the two of them probably wouldn’t remember this exchange anyway. And it was nice seeing Pacifica and Bill getting along one-on-one, although there was still a fine layer of bitterness and snark. Still, progress was progress.

Dipper’s thoughts were interrupted when a jet of water jabbed him in the back of the head. He whirled around to a wobbling Mabel training a purple water gun at him.

“ _I declare WATER GUN WAR!_ ” she screamed, pelting Bill and barely missing Pacifica, who had dived under the couch. “ _TAKE NO PRISONERS. EVERY PERSON FOR THEMSELVES._ ”

Pacifica peeked over the head of the couch. “Only a war lawfully declared, by a gg _ggg_ overnment with the authority to declare war, can be a just war,  _Mabel._ ”

“I HAVE  _ALL_ OF THE AUTHORITY!”

“Pine Tree, what is happening?” Bill asked, having yet to move from his seat on the couch, despite Mabel pelting him two or three more times. His hair, recently dried, had become soaked again.

Dipper grabbed Bill’s wrist and yanked him onto the floor, where he barreled into Dipper’s chest and almost fell down on the ground. “We’re under attack. Find a water gun. Every person for themselves.”

“Wait—”

But Dipper had already dashed out from behind the couch, barely able to dodge Mabel’s jets of water, though that was probably more likely to do with her drunken accuracy than his ninja skills. He joined Pacifica near the pool bin. When Mabel had to break for a refilling, Pacifica tore open the bin, passing Dipper his own bright red water gun.

“I hope I don’t see you on the battlefield,” Pacifica said. Dipper leaned his head forward in a serious manner. Then the two of them raced for the pool, but Dipper was able to reload slightly faster than her. When he straightened up and bombarded her with water, she squealed. “After all I  _did for you_ ,” she cried, instantly retaliating and pelting Dipper in the forehead. He had forgotten how good drunk Pacifica’s aim was.

Mabel appeared in his peripheral vision. “En Garde!” And she attacked him with more water. The war went on until Mabel had wandered too close and tripped. When Pacifica tried to catch her, they both went down into the pool.

Mabel surfaced, spluttering up the chlorine water. “Augh! My sweater! This is just too much.”

“I think one of my earrings popped off,” Pacifica said, inspecting the side of her face. Dipper had been gripped by an intense, debilitating laughter and he held his sides, almost crying. “Yuk it up, Dipdop. Now act like a gentleman and help us up.”

Dipper had to take a moment to recover from his laughing, wiping his eyes. “I think you two can handle that yourselves, thanks.”

Pacifica snorted, and the two of them swam towards the pool’s edge. But just as they pulled themselves up, a bright, flashing light and a loud  _whizz!_ made them look over. Bill was standing in front of the bin, holding a … was that a  _flare gun?_

“WATER IS FOR WIMPS. I AM YOUR GOD OF FIRE AND CHAOS!”

With a loud swear, Dipper dove out of the way as Bill shot another flare. It missed by a mile, but Bill was still laughing.

“KNEEL, MORTALS!”

“Bill, are you  _crazy—_ ” Mabel screamed as Pacifica hoisted the two of them to their feet, muttering, “ _Go, go, go, go, go—_ ”

The three of them ran out of the patio and down towards the beach. Dipper hid under the stairs as the other two scattered. He could hear Bill’s footsteps as he plodded down the stairs, tripped, and fell onto his face in the sand. The only thing that seemed to be worse than his aim was his balance.

“Did I win the gun game, guys?” he called after scrambling back to his feet. He cupped his hands together. “I won, right?  _Whoo!_ Guys? Where’d you go?” He hiccupped. “Come on, guys, I wasn’t  _actually_ trying to hit you. Don’t be mad. Quit your fleeing and start praising me! …guys?”

Bill stumbled, his knees brushing the sand as he tried to catch himself. He sniffled, seeming distressed. “Guuuuys,  _please_ come back. Don’t just leave me all alo—  _Wait._ ” Bill halted in his tracks, shoulder rigged with tension. “The fortune... ‘Your friends will run away in fear and you will be alone’. Is this...?”

A pause. Then, Bill surprised Dipper when he threw the flare gun onto the ground and started kicking at the sand.

“That's  _stupid!_  That's really stupid! So this is it, huh?” he screamed at the sky. “ _This_  is that foreboding vision of the future?  _This_  is what I was worried about all this time? I can't  _believe_  I let myself get teased by that con artist. Talk about spinning a headline. I bet all her fortunes are this same dumb crap. All that money down the drain! I might have already done one and missed it. Fuck that lady, fuck,  _fuck her_ , fucking  _fuck—_ ”

As Bill was caught up in his tirade, Dipper crept out of his spot from underneath the stairs. He wasn’t concerned about getting caught now that Bill had disarmed himself, but he still tried to be stealthy. But, through some unknown, paranormal means, Bill was able to sense him and he turned around. Without giving Dipper time to brace himself, he let out a strangled cry and threw himself at him, colliding into his chest. Light as the contact might have been, Dipper found himself toppling over into the sand.

“Dipplerrr,” Bill said, face buried in Dipper’s bare shoulder. Dipper shook his head, pushing himself into a half-reclined position. Bill was doing nothing to support his own weight, and his slightly warmer than average body temperature was throwing him through a loop. “Hey, hey, Prine Tee, Pri- hey, youuu, you  _definitely_ should … Thids alcohol thing is pretty swell. You should add it to that list of yours.”

Dipper’s face had gone red from how hard he was fighting down his laughter. And, well, other things. Mostly the alcohol. Mostly the half-naked man draped over him. “What list?”

“You know. That cookies and smiles list. All this …  _thiss_ … is  _definitely_ a pro in fleshbag’s favor.”

Dipper sighed, shaking his head. At least Bill was having a good time, a good time that didn’t involve maiming something else.  _He might not feel this way tomorrow, though_. Which reminded him. “Come on, Bill, you should probably get some water.”

“Kay.”

Dipper tried helping Bill to his feet, but Bill’s legs had finally given up on him. He couldn’t stand up straight if he tried. In the end, in a bout of frustration, Dipper swiped his hand under Bill’s knees and lifted him up. Bill’s head lolled onto his shoulder and he mumbled under his breath as Dipper carried him up the stairs.

By the time he reached the back patio, Bill had started snoring. He was asleep.

Dipper let him rest.

…

Even though the clock indicated that Bill had slept for a solid thirteen hours, when he woke up the next morning he still felt tired and achy to the bone. His mouth felt dry and when he flipped off the covers and tried to hop out of bed, his world tilted on an axis. What manner of fresh hell was this?

He heard voices and clattering dishes down the hall. They led him to the kitchen, where Pacifica was leaning against the counter sipping a smoothie and Dipper and Mabel were sitting at the bar, eating bacon and eggs. Dipper waved him over. They were all fully dressed.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” he said. “Everything’s packed. Eat some breakfast and we can head out.”

Bill nodded, and the smell of bacon reminded him that, yes, he was  _starving._ As he approached the bar, however, a long, low growl caught his attention. Mabel has resting her head on the table, hiding her face in her arms. A glass of water with a capsule of pills next to it rested by her elbow. She sounded like she was dying.

“ _This_ is what happens when you don’t keep yourself hydrated while drinking,” Dipper said, making no effort to hide his smug grin. Mabel groaned, and then reached over to punch him, only to groan again and curl back up even tighter than before.

Bill reflected on his own wooziness and slight nausea, and supposed it could always be worse. “Noted. Now pass me some of those eggs.”

Bill wolfed down his breakfast at lightning speeds, asking for seconds, and then thirds. Pacifica provided him his food, shaking her head all the while. “If you throw up all over my floor,” she said after the fourth helping, glaring daggers, “I’m going to mop it up with your hair.”

“Relax, Blondie, I would never waste food like that. It’s too important.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

With breakfast done, Bill went to go change into comfortable driving clothes. Upon returning to the kitchen he got into an argument with Dipper on whether his Month of Cleaning Dishes Pass started now or when they got back to the Shack. By the time they finished Pacifica had already tended to everything. Bill would’ve considered it a victory if she hadn’t grinded her knuckle into both of their heads, but he supposed it was a small price to pay for getting out of chores.

Once 2 o’clock rolled in, they were ready to go. It was reassuring that they wouldn’t be doing the whole trip in one go this time. They had a motel room booked about halfway through, for which Bill was immensely grateful.

The other three were exchanging their goodbyes. Mabel, who was holding an icepack to her head, extended her other arm out. “ _Group hug!_ ”

Bill held up his hands, taking a step back. “I think I’ll have to pass on that—”

Too late, Dipper already grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him into the fray. He could only stand there and bite back a groan as they all squashed him on both sides.  _Just a little bit longer. You’ve survived worse than this. Don’t do or say anything stupid._

“God, I’m going to miss you guys so much,” Pacifica said as she pulled away. “It’s been such a drag this last year.”

“We’ll see each other again soon,” said Mabel. “You’re still coming up for Thanksgiving this year, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good luck on your art auction,” Dipper said. “You’re going to do great, I’m positive.”

“Thanks, Dip. I’ll let you guys know how it turns out.” Dipper nodded, and then Pacifica turned towards Bill. “Well, Bill. It’s been …”

“A train wreck?” Bill offered.

“ _Interesting_ ,” she finished, and she smiled. “Here, I wanted to give you this.”

She pulled a small hardback book out of her purse and handed it over to him. Bill flipped it over, blinking.  _Yoga and Meditation in Daily Life._ “I, uh … thanks, I guess.”

She shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Then, her expression blanked for a moment. Without warning, she leaned forward and gathered him into a tight hug. He didn’t even have time to sidestep it.  _Damned humans and their sentimentality_. He didn’t know if he should break away or return the hug, so he just stood there, tense and awkward.

“Good luck with everything, Cipher,” she said, thumping him on the back. Then, she suddenly tightened her grip, and Bill choked on a gasp. “It's good to see you on the straight and narrow. Now, you better look after my old friends or I'll send the CIA after you."

“Okay, Blondie, okay,  _please_ , the  _sunburn …_ ”

Pacifica released him a moment later, smiling and patting his shoulder as if she hadn’t just threatened him with incarceration. She turned to the twins. “Have a safe drive, you two.”

“Thanks. We’ll call you once we get to the motel, alright?”

“Please do.”

The three of them filed into the Pines’ Honda. Dipper sat in the front seat with Mabel as the passenger. She was clutching her head, reading a letter in her lap. It must have been a bottle message that was delivered this morning. A small smile pricked her lips, and she held the letter to her chest. Good news, Bill supposed as he climbed into the back

Bill watched as Pacifica waved from the sloping driveway, her many necklaces glinting in the sunlight and her sundress swishing in the gentle breeze.  _She may be an oxymoronic rich hippie with a self-centered attitude,_ he thought as they drove down the street, Pacifica becoming smaller and smaller until she vanished over the hill. He settled back down in his seat, and sighed.  _But she helps where she’s needed._

He supposed the twins didn’t deserve a better friend.

_Friends …_

Bill leaned up against the window, staring at the flickering San Diego scenery. What a trip. Before all this, he didn’t think anything would be able to get him back into the Mindscape, the collective conscience between dimensions. The risks were just too great. But being there, wielding complete and utter dominance over his and everyone’s reality … Nothing even compared to the sense of fullness it gave him.

Having been so close to what he used to be like, all-powerful and terrifying, only to have it ripped away was unimaginably painful. Having to return to his human body after such an experience left him feeling like a small, sad, boring husk. His soul itched with the urge to return to that state where he had no rules and no restrictions, where he had control over himself and everything. It took every ounce of his willpower to remind himself of the risks, to remind himself why it will  _never_ be worth it.

He reflected on Dipper's impromptu speech from last night, and he frowned.

_Smiles. Laughter. Friends._

_Is that really all it takes to make this life worth living, Pine Tree?_

He tore himself away from the window. He needed a distraction.

He examined the cover of the book Pacifica gave him and instantly tossed it aside. It would take a life or death situation to get him to pick that back up. The games on his phone were still boring, he wasn’t interested in listening to any music, and he didn’t feel like starting a conversation.

He figured now was as good a time as any to continue on his logbooks. But as he settled the journal on his lap and readied his pen in his left hand, he found he couldn’t bring himself to write anything. Just the thought of continuing to document the events of the destruction of the Pillars of Creation gave him a massive headache.

 _You know … all that nature of the universe stuff sounds like a total headache to write._ Pacifica’s voice came floating back to him.  _Why not make a diary out of it?_

He flicked his pen through his fingers, thoughts racing a thousand miles ahead.  _Free writing? I could … write about whatever I wanted?_

_It’s great for organizing your head._

_Hmm …_

His hand reached towards the paper as if it had a mind of its own. He doodled circles and lines for a few minutes, loosening up the ink. When the words came to his mind, he began writing them down.

_No idea how to start this stupid thing._

_I guess the beginning would as good a place to start as any._

_So there I was, a mind-bending demon from beyond space, lying naked there on the floor. I had two former nuisances of mine gawking at me..._

The words flowed more easily to him than any entry he had ever made.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, we arrive at the end of the Beach House Arc. It was a wild ride and I had a lot of fun writing it. I'm going to miss Pacifica. But it's time to move onwards! And I'm really looking forward to the next chapter, and the rough draft is already complete for it! Imagine that.
> 
> Boy, you guys were _amazingly_ generous with the fanart last update. Words can't do my feelings justice, but I'm going to do my best. Here we go!
> 
> [[aquart1999]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/139913064668/i-dont-usually-draw-humans-but-i-just-had-to) A submission made directly to the DBC page! It's an adorable drawing of Bill. I especially like the lighting here, it makes it look so intense.
> 
> [[chocolienits]](http://chocolienits.tumblr.com/post/139689988650/a-bunch-of-definingbillcipher-bills-also-mabels) Drawings of various scenes in DBC. Oh man, I love everything about them, especially the nods to the fic itself. I could spend the next lifetime explaining how much these drawings mean to me and I still wouldn't have enough time.
> 
> [[deerdentist]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/139641062598/doodled-a-bill-for-encouragement-keep-up-the) Another submission and doodle of Bill! Just look at this little noodle. It's so cute! <3
> 
> [[faluvian]](http://faluvian.tumblr.com/post/138900177490/athina-blaine-heya-so-as-you-might-have) A handsome drawing of Dipper. Simply masterful. Just, I know I rave about how faluvian draws their eyes all the time, but just ... augh, they're so gorgeous. I'm obligated to gush over it every time. 
> 
> [[faluvian]](http://faluvian.tumblr.com/post/139457032530/athina-blaine-so-i-made-another-drawing-for) A beautiful drawing of Pacifica. She looks so lovely in this; I especially adore the way her hair's drawn.
> 
> [[galaxyyart]](http://galaxyyart.tumblr.com/post/137887278106/cause-im-fragile-and-you-know-this-so-hold-me) Chapter 10, Dipper hugging Bill. Galaxyyart really captures the intimacy of the moment. I love the shading; it's incredibly soothing.
> 
> [[lyndseyfekete]](http://lyndseyfekete.tumblr.com/post/138683761008/fanart) A doodle of Dip and Bill by my good friend. You rock, gurl!
> 
> [[nerdsteak]](http://nerdsteak.tumblr.com/post/138712621652/doodle-of-athina-blaines-dbc-bill-because-i) A drawing of Bill. God, I love this one a lot, Bill looks so precious here. Check out nerdsteak's highschool AU, it's really cute!
> 
> [[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/139751515083/here-have-some-bills-3-yay-more-bills-theyre) A final submission and even more Bills! I have a stack of Bills now! Which is something people usually complain about, but I think I can roll with it. *badum tsh*
> 
> And more bonus content drawn by yours truly!
> 
> [[definingbillcipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/138313624353/satisfied-he-covered-his-stomach-and-pulled-back) A visual reference of Bill's binding marks.
> 
> [[definingbillcipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/138825841988/group-photo-defining-bill-ciphers-new-cover) A cover photo for DBC! Spot all the references to the fic, and you win a prize! (The prize is my love and affection (but let's be real, I already love you so much)).
> 
> See you next chapter, guys!
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	12. Dipper Pines, in Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dipper ruminates on an unusual dream during a day at the mall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** This chapter contains mild sexual content.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Dipper has some opinions regarding dating that the author doesn't side with.

_As his galleon pulled out of the harbor, Dipper stood on the stern, staring at the crowd below. He could see Pacifica on the docks, waving a handkerchief. She was wearing a 16th-century style gown and a hat made out of eagle feathers. It was the latest in woman’s fashion._

_Dipper cupped his hands and called, “Don’t forget to butter the kale, my love!” Pacifica responded with a series of loud, piercing shrieks, and Dipper chuckled. Such is the way._

_The galleon then zoomed across the waters. Several sea creatures floated by, a blue whale almost falling on top of them once or twice. The weather was excellent for an outing at sea, Dipper thought. Clear skies, strong winds, and smooth waters. Should this stroke of good fortune stay with them, he and his captain should be able to deliver their wares of trinkets to the Queen of England without any trouble. Was the Queen fussy about how her visitors dressed? Perhaps he should have cut his hair like Mabel suggested. Pulling it in a ponytail will have to work for now. If not, the Queen will have to find a new merchant of her invaluable trinkets._

_Mabel appeared at his elbow, wearing a puffy white shirt and an imposing tricorne. She was operating the ship’s wheel and humming under her breath._

_“What shall you do with a drunken sailor? What shall you do with a drunken cipher? I don’t know how to steer this ship here …” Angling herself, she gripped the wheel and yanked it to the left, where it started spinning out of her control. She whistled under her breath. “… early in the morning. Hey Dip, you should really watch out for those giant earmuffs.”_

_“Earmuffs?”_

_But before Mabel could elaborate, a large creature surfaced from the water. It was dozens of stories high and had fur, sharp teeth, and long claws. It howled, chilling Dipper’s blood, before bringing its mighty paw down on the ship, cleaving it in half. Dipper had no time to react before he was thrown into the water. He couldn’t move his arms and legs, his heavy coat dragging him down. He floated there, frozen in the deep, dark ocean._

_Something scaly flashed in the corner of his eyes. He turned. A merperson was drifting towards him a few yards away, flicking its tail as it circled him with a curious expression. Dipper watched, mesmerized by the locks of golden hair and shimmering green scales. He tried calling out and asking for help, but then panic flashed in the man’s eyes. His lips turned blue and his eyelids fluttered shut, and he began to sink._

He’s drowning.

_Fear gripped Dipper’s heart. Dismissing his paralysis, he swam forward until he was within arm’s reach of the merman. He cupped his face and pressed his mouth against cold lips, breathing air into him. The lips melded against his own, parting underneath him, sighing. He felt soft hands tangling in his hair. A warmth was spreading through him, and Dipper tensed._

_The hands stilled. The lips pulled away. Dipper, alarmed, wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him against his chest. He was met with a brilliant blue eye._

_“Don’t,” he whispered, bubbles escaping his mouth._

_Then, Dipper was lying on the beach, calm waves cresting over him. He pushed himself onto unsteady feet. Further down the shore lied the merman, now with two pale, slim legs instead of a tail. Dipper sat down next to him, and the man turned his head and gently smiled._

_“It is irresponsible for drivers to speed through intersections when the stoplight is yellow,” he said._

_Dipper chuckled. “You say the funniest things sometimes.”_

_He leaned down to kiss him again. He kissed his neck and his shoulder and nibbled down his collarbone. The man squirmed beneath him, digging his fingers into the sand and arching his back. Dipper brought their hips flushed together, smoothing his hand down his ribs, his soft stomach, between his thighs, spreading his legs apart…_

_The smell of sweat and sex encased Dipper’s senses, and when he entered him, his stomach twisted with sweet agony. Pleasure rippled up and down his entire body. He couldn’t stop. The noises the man made, his soft skin, his expression, all sent an electrified thrill through Dipper spurring him on and on in an intense heat. He felt a pressure inside, a pressure that built and built on itself until—_

Dipper opened his eyes. A shudder passed through him and he tightened the blankets around himself. He had broken out in a sweat. What time was it? And, oh god, why was he feeling sticky?

Pushing the snoozing Bill off of his chest, Dipper pulled back the sheets and winced. A dark stain had appeared on Dipper’s clothes and bedsheets. _Unbelievable. I_ just _did the laundry, too._

Sighing, Dipper sat up and kicked his legs over the bed, grimacing at the crusty feeling between his thighs. This called for a shower. He glanced at the clock and felt a small relief that it was only 8:25 AM. His alarm had been set for 8:30, so at least he wasn’t going to be losing any sleep over this.

Taking a brief moment to stretch, Dipper rose to his feet. On the other half of the bed, Bill continued to rest with his back facing Dipper. He was curled up in the blankets and snoring softly. Dipper leaned over the bed, gripping the sheets between his fingers.

“Bill?”

Silence.

“Bill, wake up.”

A light groan. Dipper started pulling the sheets off the bed, yanking them out from underneath Bill. Bill groaned louder and shuddered, curling up into a ball. _Stubborn idiot,_ Dipper thought.

“Okay, fine, I’ll give you until I get out of the shower. You’d better be up by the time I get back. I don’t want to get caught in the rain when we’re at the mall.”

Bill mumbled something under his breath and then wrapped his arms around himself. Dipper sighed, slightly shaking his head. Gathering the sheets into a bundle, he grabbed a change of clothes before leaving his bedroom. He dropped the sheets off in the laundry room before heading into the bathroom, starting up the shower.

When he stepped underneath the scorching hot water, he let out a long breath. Once he allowed his skin to get nice and pink, he took a soapy sponge to the stubborn stain on his skin. He still couldn’t believe this had happened. He hadn’t had a wet dream for years, not since he had emerged from the Hell known as puberty. He specifically remembered the last one he had because Mabel had had friends over that night and all of them had ambushed him in the morning when it was time for breakfast. Thinking about it even now made him cringe with embarrassment. Goddamn, did he hate puberty.

 _I wonder what the dream was even about._ He tried to recall the images, finding he had a more difficult time than usual. He had a knack for remembering the dreams he had. But everything that came back to him seemed rather fuzzy.

 _Let’s see … I think we were on some kind of boat? No, no, it was the Golden Hind. And Mabel was the captain, and I think Pacifica was there, but she wasn’t on the boat._ He then remembered the merman. Ah. So that’s what did it. He guessed it made sense he’d dream about a merperson, seeing as how it had only been two or so weeks since the beach house incident. He was glad Mabel couldn’t see into his dreams; she’d tease him endlessly about his theoretical attraction to Mermando.

After scrubbing his skin raw and finally feeling clean, Dipper turned off the water and got out of the shower, shivering. After drying off, he stepped in front of the mirror, scrubbing the stubble on his jaw. _I had a ponytail_ , he remembered. Hmm. He’d probably look pretty good with a ponytail. Maybe he should grow his hair out.

After shaving and changing, he took the stained pajamas and threw them into the hamper. What caused all this anyway? He thought with some regret that it might have something to do with the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a long time. He hadn’t really been interested. Perhaps this was a sign from the universe that Dipper Pines needed to get back in the dating field. A sign that came in the form of gross bodily emissions and sullied underwear. _Thanks, Universe. I really needed this right now._

When he got back to his room, Bill had yet to move from his spot on the naked bed. If anything, he had curled up even tighter now, shivering. Dipper loomed over him, eyebrow twitching.

“Bill.”

“Mnngh.”

“Bill. I said you could sleep until I got back.”

“Mmmmmmnghh.”

“If you don’t get up in the next five seconds I’m going to have to use force.”

“Mmmn.”

“Okay. You asked for it.”

Bracing himself on the bed with one knee, Dipper leaned over and scooped up Bill in his arms. Bill squirmed and made small noises, pawing at Dipper’s face and arching away. It reminded Dipper of the grumpy old cat he and Mabel used to have back in California. Dipper chuckled a bit at the thought. Bill’s right eye cracked open to fix him with a surly glare.

“I did warn you,” Dipper said gently. Bill groaned and slumped, and put up no further resistance as Dipper gathered him in his arms and carried him out of the room. Dipper supposed he could just let him walk, but then again, he didn’t trust Bill to not scurry back to bed the second his feet touched the ground. This was just a preemptive measure.

By the time they got to the kitchen, Bill had already fallen asleep again against Dipper’s shoulder. _I will never understand how he’s able to fall asleep so quickly_ , he thought with slight envy. He flopped him down in one of the kitchen chairs and walked over towards the kitchen counter to start breakfast.

“Want some tea?” he asked as he began filling the kettle with water. Bill yawned, and then folded his arms on the table and laid his head down. “I’ll take that as a yes. You need some caffeine.”

“In that, we are agreed,” Bill mumbled.

Dipper smiled and returned his attention to tea making. He had found through experimentation that Bill liked his tea with a surplus of milk and honey, and preferred jasmine. He had turned his nose up to almost everything else Dipper owned. When Dipper gave him a cup of Earl Gray, he all but gagged at the mere smell of it, for which Dipper took personal offense. He was able to let it go. Eventually. No accounting for taste.

Fifteen minutes later he had the tea prepared along with a bowl of nauseatingly sugary kids’ cereal and two slices of buttered toast. He sat down and slid the bowl and Bill’s green mug across the table before taking a bite out of his toast, moaning as the taste hit his tongue. He had been starving. Bill took the mug, taking a moment to warm his hands before gulping down its contents. He surfaced with a pleased breath.

“Much better.”

“You look better,” Dipper said, taking a sip of his own tea, sighing with pleasure. Bill snorted, stuffing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Hey, this whole getting up before 11 thing was your idea, so don’t blame me for being crabby.” An agonized expression crossed Bill’s face just then, as if the reality that he was up before 11 AM had just hit him. “Why do I have to go? Shooting Star gets to stay behind.”

“Bill, this trip is for you. It’ll be kind of difficult buying new clothes if you’re not there to try them on.”

“Star was able to buy some clothes from that thrift shop.”

“Those were just supposed to tide you over until we could get you to the mall. But then you got hurt so we had to wait a bit longer. You can’t live on our old clothes forever,” he said, eyeing the red pajama shirt that was clearly three sizes too small. Bill shrugged, continuing to shovel the colorful flakes into his mouth, spilling flecks of milk everywhere. Dipper scrunched his nose with mild disgust. “Jesus, Bill, eat with your mouth closed.”

“I’ll eat with my mouth closed when you stop moaning and grunting every time something touches your tongue.”

Dipper rolled his eyes, taking a pointed bite of his toast and swallowing without a sound. Bill watched him with narrowed eyes, then scooped another bite of cereal into his mouth, chewing with lips closed. Dipper snorted.

Once he was finished with his toast and tea, he collected his mug and plate and walked over towards Bill, patting his shoulder. “You’ll have a great time at the mall. There’s food and music and cool stuff you can buy for yourself.”

“Oh yes, a congregation of consumerism and materialistic, mindless sheep.” Bill turned towards him, offering the biggest, cheesiest smile he could manage. “It sounds like a paradise.”

Dipper pinched his cheek, almost getting his fingers bitten before pulling away. “You know, I think my favorite thing about you is your positive attitude and optimism.”

“I try.”

“Try harder.”

Bill rolled his eye, returning to his cereal.

Once Bill finished his breakfast and the two of them cleaned their dishes, he changed into a frayed shirt and faded khakis. Dipper took in the outfit, immensely grateful they were finally getting Bill some new clothes. As it was, he looked like white trash on laundry day half the time.

Dipper left a note for Mabel, and the two of them piled into the Honda. He glanced at the sky through his window. It looked like the weatherman had been correct in predicting clear skies for the morning. He only hoped his luck lasted long enough for the two of them to get what they need and get out before the rain showed.

As he guided them out of the driveway and onto the main road, resting his arm on the center console, he noticed Bill slumping down in his seat. In this lighting, he could see the shadows that had developed under his eyes, and he seemed to yawn every other minute. He felt a trace amount of guilt.

“I guess that Ghost Harassers marathon last night took a lot out of you, huh?”

But Bill waved him away with one hand, smothering a yawn with the other. “N-no, it’s fine. I don’t think the tea’s set in yet.”

Curiosity tugged at Dipper’s mind, and his cleared his throat. “So … what did you think of the season finale?”

Bill crinkled his eye in thought. “Fine, I guess. It was better than the first season’s finale, anyway.”

“What did you think of the reveal of the Ghost Baron?”

“I thought it was just about as ridiculous as the reveals of the Ghost Pirate and the Ghost Baker in the last two seasons.” Dipper felt something loosen in his chest at the sound of such blasphemous words. But Bill continued. “Why would a baron ghost haunt his own barony? All the ghost barons I know haunted rival baronies. Haunting your own is so pointless.”

For a second Dipper forgot his righteous anger, and he blinked. “Seriously? What if he's just trying to protect his house or something?"

"Only poltergeists protect homes,” Bill said with the air of a school teacher lecturing a dull student. “Ghosts torment enemies."

“Oh.” Dipper looked back to his steering wheel. His intrigue at the curious fact was overshadowed by his sense of foolishness. “I didn’t realize you didn’t like the show that much. I wouldn’t have kept you up all night watching it.”

“Wait, what? Don’t be ridiculous, that show is amazing.” Dipper’s eyebrows went up and he turned back towards Bill. He had started gesticulating with his hands, as he tended to do whenever he got excited about something. “It’s so wrong about almost everything that it makes it _completely_ unpredictable. Plus, that guy with the crazy hair is hilarious. I love how he torments all of the other cast members with his pranks. It speaks to me.”

Dipper chuckled, slightly relieved that Bill didn’t hate his favorite show. “Yeah, I like Omar, too. He’s a really good host.” They were approaching an intersection, and as the light changed to yellow Dipper eased onto his brake. “Although I think that subplot with his and Lucille’s supposed dead brother was really stretching it, even by the show’s standards.”

“Was that the same episode where Lucille almost triggers that crystal tra— _Pine Tree_ , what are you _doing?_ ”

Dipper gasped, reflexively slamming his foot on the brake, tires skidding on the pavement just at the edge of the intersection. The car behind him honked as it was forced to a dead stop, and Dipper shot Bill a panicked look. “What the hell was that, Bill?”

Bill glared at him, pointing at the now red stoplight. “You could have totally made that if you hadn’t’ve slowed down. What gives?”

Dipper closed his eyes, releasing a deep breath as he rested his head on the steering wheel. “Christ, Bill, you almost gave me a heart attack.” _He’s going to be the death of me someday, I swear._ “You’re supposed to slow down when the light is yellow.”

“Yeah, and last I checked you’re supposed to actually buy music from the music companies, Pine Tree. But, oh, what’s this?” Bill snatched Dipper’s phone from the center console, waving it around. “You steal it anyway, because why? It’s more convenient.”

Dipper lightly smacked the phone from Bill’s hand. “Downloading music doesn’t put you or me in danger,” he mumbled, already knowing it was a pointless battle. Bill snorted.

“ _Danger,_ he says. You hunt powerful supernatural entities for fun, but slightly accelerating on a yellow light is a step too far. Really, Pine Tree? There are about a million better ways to spend our time, but no, you wanted to spend it in front of a freakin’ stoplight. Have you seen how many cars are out here today? Too many for Gravity Fall’s narrow backwoods roads, kid. You’ve stranded us."

Dipper rolled his eyes and readied a retort when something about what Bill said stopped him. It felt like he was experiencing déjà vu, yet he couldn’t pinpoint what it was that had bothered him. _... spend it in front of a stoplight. Stoplight. Why does that sound so weird?_

For some reason, his mind was drawn back to last night’s dream. Now that so much time had passed, the details seemed even fuzzier, but he could still recall the highlights. Pacifica with her eagle hat on the docks, Mabel as the ship’s captain, the giant wolf creature, the drowning merman and the sex they had on the beach—

Dipper’s heart sped up.

The merman.

The _blonde_ merman.

With a single blue eye.

And a voice that sounded like …

Oh my god.

A loud honking broke Dipper out of his revere. The light had turned green. Without thinking, Dipper smashed his foot onto the pedal and peeled forward. He could sense Bill’s eye on him, but couldn’t bring himself to look over. Sweat had broken out on his skin and an agonizing heat was crawling up his face and down his stomach.

“You doing alright, Pine Tr—”

“I’m fine,” he said, voice high pitched and cracking. He gulped, keeping his eyes firmly on the road and thanking every deity known to man that Bill couldn’t see into his mind.

Bill.

Bill had been the blonde merman.

He had a sex dream about Bill last night.

…

When they arrived at the mall, the parking lot was almost empty. It wouldn’t be long before the Saturday crowd rolled in, so hopefully they could wrap everything up before that happened. When the two of them walked into the center plaza, Bill’s eye went wide and he made a small, awed gasp.

“Whoa,” he said. “Look at all this _stuff_.” Without warning, he dashed forward towards a sunglasses kiosk stand, taking it in for just a moment before running over to a display window for a skateboard store, soon ditching that to ogle a game station stand, and so forth. People were already beginning to stare. Dipper followed after him with his hands tucked into his pockets, trying to process his situation and trying to not think about it all at the same time. All it left him with was a dull anxiety.

When Dipper drew up next to him in front of a music store, Bill turned to him, smiling. His expression was that of a starry-eyed child. “No wonder you humans are so eager to submit to corporate overlords. This is awesome.”

“Told you you’d like it,” Dipper said, wishing his voice didn’t sound so scratchy. But Bill didn’t seem to notice anyway, rubbing his hands together as he gawped a pair of display headphones. His stare reminded Dipper of a hungry seal in front of a bucket of fish. “You can try them on if you want.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do.” Grabbing the headphones by the fingertips, Bill snapped them onto his head. He blinked, confused, and then turned to Dipper. “Are they broken? There’s nothing playing.”

Dipper about smacked his own forehead. “You have to turn the music on, dummy.” He pressed the play button on the sample music selection, and Bill tensed. His brow furrowed, body half crouched as if he were preparing to spring into the air. He started to slowly bob his head back and forth. He looked up to Dipper.

“THESE SOUND AMAZING.”

Dipper choked on a gasp and slapped his hand across Bill’s mouth. “Not so loud, Bill—”

“WHAT?”

Dipper tore off the headphones and put them back on the display hold. More people were staring. Bill rubbed his ears, expression a bit surly, although he brightened up again as he gawked at the display.

“I’ve never heard music that clear before. Pine Tree, you’ve got to get them for me.”

Dipper glanced at the price tag on the set and backed away, cringing. “No way, man. Those clothes are already going to cost a fortune.”

Bill slumped, eyebrows slanting upwards. He stared at the case. “Oh.”

Dipper sighed, feeling a combination of frustration and guilt. Did he have to look so damn sad? “Nothing stopping you from using your own money.”

At his words, Bill perked up. He dug around in his pocket and withdrew the wallet Mabel had made for him. He opened the flap and withdrew several bills, counting them under his breath. “Twenty-five … thirty … forty-five … Fifty-five!” Full of hope, Bill looked at the price tag. He deflated once again. He was about forty dollars short. “Oh …”

Bill glanced up at Dipper with a pout and a sad, watery eye. _Ah, Jesus Christ._ Dipper couldn’t help it; he felt bad. It’s not his fault Bill seemed to have mastered the kicked dog look. _It’s just forty dollars, right? I could probably spot him—_

Dipper sighed, rubbing his temple. He hadn’t even realized that spoiling Bill had pretty much become second nature to him. He probably would buy those headphones if he wasn’t so rattled by the— _But I told you not to think about that._

“Sorry, Bill.” He patted Bill’s shoulder, leading him away from the music store. “Maybe you can try saving up the money. Hey, Christmas is in a few months, maybe you can ask for them then.”

“Yeah … Whatever. Stupid headphones. Who needs em …?” Bill let himself be led by Dipper, staring longingly at the headphones until they passed a corner. After that, he slumped sadly into Dipper’s side, either not noticing or not caring how Dipper tensed up. His hands had begun sweating.

“W-we need to-,” Dipper paused to clear his throat. “We can get pretty much everything we need at Kacy’s.” Just thinking about the costs of this outing was enough to make Dipper woozy. _Thank God Ford and Stan send us money every once in a while._

Bill mumbled his acknowledgment, distracted by the passing display windows and kiosks. It seemed like he had already forgotten about the expensive headphones, dazzled by all of the aggressive advertising. Twice they were approached by vendors, and Dipper had to grab Bill’s hand and tug him away to keep them on course.

“But Pine Tree—”

“No.”

“That computer stand looked really interesting—”

“No.”

“What about the toy car one—?”

“No.”

“I can’t even look—?”

“ _No._ ”

“Come _ooon_ —”

“Ssshh.”

It was only through sheer determination that Dipper was able to steer the both of them through the mall without getting sidetracked once. He was actually quite impressed with himself. He pulled the two of them into the store before releasing Bill.

“We can get everything you need here,” Dipper said. “Pick whatever you like and you can try them on to see if they fit.”

Bill made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth, venturing further into the store. The cashier gave the two of them a nice smile as they wandered passed. Dipper took a special interest in helping Bill, determined to keep himself as busy as possible. But it didn’t last long.

When Bill locked himself in the changing room with an armful of clothes, Dipper was forced to wait outside. Alone. Without Bill to distract him. Without anything to keep his mind from wandering to … his dream.

His wet dream.

About _Bill fucking Cipher._

 _Or more specifically about_ fucking _Bill Cipher_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully and Dipper dropped his head into his hands, groaning.

He still couldn’t process it. A dream where he had sex with Bill. And it _bothered_ him. Not in an angry, disturbed sort of way, which was the most confusing part. _Shouldn’t_ he be disturbed? This was _Bill Cipher_ , a dangerous dream demon who, yes, was a human now, but had only been a human for about a month or two. Yes, he had changed a lot in that time, and Dipper had no regrets about their tentative friendship. But that still didn’t change the fact that at his core, he was still Bill. How could he be possibly ... _having thoughts_  about somebody like that?

_Maybe because it’s not the core you’re thinking about._

The door opened up and Bill emerged, wearing a new pair of jeans, a black hoodie, and a pale blue shirt. He looked into a mirror, watching himself, before turning around with arms wide open.

“I like it,” he declared with a wide smile.

Dipper shoved his thoughts aside, scanning the outfit from head to toe. They fit him well, especially the jeans. “It looks good on you.”

Pleased, Bill turned back to the mirror, admiring himself from all angles. He seemed especially enamored with the jacket. Not long after that, he vanished into the room again, leaving Dipper to his own devices once more. He took a deep breath and settled back down in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose.

So there had been a moment at the beach house where Dipper stared at Bill’s naked upper body for a bit longer than what might be considered appropriate. And _yes_ , there might have been a thought or two about how … good he looked. But he had been _tired_ and _emotional_. Surely that didn’t mean Dipper was attracted Bill now, did it? Bill wasn’t even that hot.

_Well, hot might not be the right word. Cute, maybe. And he does have nice skin._

Okay, that might be true, but—

_And his eye is a really pretty blue, almost a sky blue. His hair is so soft, too, could you imagine running your fingers through that?_

He guessed it did seem rather soft—

_And Bill may not have the best personality, but it’s nice how over the moon he can get sometimes. He’s also a great bedmate, doesn’t kick or snore, and the face he makes when he’s sleepy is adorable—_

Dipper’s body went rigged as he realized where his mind had led him and he killed that train of thought in its tracks. He heard the door unlock and he sat up, desperate for a distraction.

“Hey, Pine Tree, I know you have a thing for flannel shirts, and I’m not about to judge—” Bill walked out of the dressing room, holding two plaid shirts in his hands. He was wearing nothing but the jeans from before. “—but please don’t try to force your lumberjack sensibilities onto me, alright? It can’t end well.”

Bill looked at Dipper. A moment passed and his brow furrowed at the lack of response.

“Nothing? Jeez, kid. I expect more from you. If you’re not going to give me a dismissive retort I may as well not even bother.”

Dipper blinked, feeling as if though his brain were booting back up. “Wha—?” Embarrassment crawled through him and he trained his eyes on the floor. “I, uh … I d-don’t think, think that you … I-I don’t …” The words kept getting lost and reorganized somewhere in his throat.

Two feet appeared in his line of vision and when he looked up, Bill was there, still shirtless, staring down at him with a raised eyebrow. His embarrassment became all the stronger, but he couldn’t make himself look away.

“What’s the matter? It sounds like a brain parasite just stuck itself in your Broca’s Area.”

“I, uh … you know, t-that’s a distinct possibility.” A part of him wanted Bill to put his shirt back on, another part of him _really_ didn’t want Bill to put his shirt back on, and a third part of him was angry at himself for not wanting Bill to put his shirt back on. He cleared his throat, jumping to his feet and pushing Bill back towards the changing room, much to his protest. “Come on, Bill, we don’t have time for this.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh, no need to play sheepherder.” But Bill allowed himself to be corralled back into the changing room. Once there, he snapped his fingers and said, “ _Oh_ , wait let me do something real quick …” and he bent over to rifle through the clothes pile. Dipper forced himself to look away. Yes, those jeans fit him perfectly.

A moment later, Bill walked out of the room, hands behind his back as he struggled … to hook on a lacy black bra. “Seriously, I don’t know how Shooting Star does this …” he mumbled, unaware of how Dipper’s jaw dropped. “Who even designed these things like this? It doesn’t seem like a very good—” A laugh ripped itself from Dipper’s chest and he had to slap a hand over his mouth. Bill looked up, frowning.

“B-Bill,” Dipper said once he recovered. He wiped the tears from his eyes. “You don’t have to wear a bra, you know.”

“I don’t?”

“No. You—” Dipper lightly smacked Bill’s chest “—don’t have boobs.”

“ _Oh_.” Bill straightened up, turning towards himself in the mirror. He angled himself for a moment, expression contemplative, before looking to Dipper again. “Can I get it anyway?”

“Well,” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck, unable to believe he was having this conversation, “uh, again, you don’t need them, therefore they’re an unnecessary expenditure, and therefore, if you want it, you’ll have to buy it yourself.”

Bill removed the bra, taking a moment to find the price tag. When he did, his eye bulged. “ _40 dollars?_ For this _scrap_?” He held up the bra away from his face, disgusted, before balling it up and tossing it back into the store. “Yeah freaking right. What a rip-off.”

“You’re probably better off,” Dipper said. “Mabel doesn’t go a day without complaining about her bras.”

Bill snorted before returning to the changing room, muttering under his breath. Dipper lowered his head, massaging his eyelids, before walking over to pick up the felled bra.

How could he possibly be having these kind of thoughts for such a perfect idiot?

…

When the fashion show was complete, they ended up with four shirts, seven pairs of various pants, two swimsuits, socks and underwear, and sneakers and sandals. Dipper noticed that Bill had been largely unsatisfied with the shirt selection, especially the collared ones. But he liked the graphic t-shirts, particularly taken with one that had a pizza slice with an eye on it that said _Crust No One._ He giggled for a good five minutes over that.

 _We should stop by Chaucer’s_ , Dipper thought as the cashier rang them up. _It’s a novelty store. He’ll probably find a few more shirts he’d like there._

They left the store, laden with several bags. Bill wore his new hoodie out. Dipper was torn between the satisfaction of a moderately successful shopping spree and the heartache the receipt total had given him. _Looks like it’s gonna be ramen for dinner for a while_.

The rueful thought reminded him of the dull ache that had developed in his stomach. They had been in that store for almost two hours.

“Bill, you hungry?”

Bill grunted as he readjusted the bags around his wrist. He shot him a dry look. “Always assume the answer to that is yes.”

“This place has an outdoor food court. We’ll get something to eat before stopping by Chaucer’s, and then we can head back home.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Once again, Dipper led the two of them through the busying walkways. Now that it was almost noon, the crowds were beginning to swell. Bill kept close to Dipper’s side, reaching out to grab his shirt once or twice when they had to push through a dense pack of people. He seemed less distracted by all the kiosks and display windows.

Just when Dipper though he was in the home clear, however, he noticed Bill starting to slow down near a magazine stand. A young man with colorfully dyed hair was running it, smiling when they made eye contact. Dipper quickly looked away, grabbing Bill’s hand again and speeding up.

“Come on, we shouldn’t get—”

“Oh, would you just _relax_ , Pine Tree?” Bill said, yanking the two of them to a stop. Dipper tried tugging him along, but Bill showed surprising strength and dug his feet in. “We’re already pretty much done. Stop and smell the roses for once, would ya?”

“I—” Dipper sighed. _I guess it doesn’t really matter; we only have one store left._ “Fine. We can take a quick look.”

Bill grinned and towed him towards the kiosk, browsing the various magazine covers with a hungry expression. He let go of Dipper’s hand and set down his bags, scooping up a bright, vibrantly colored magazine that looked like it was meant for tweens. He opened to a random page.

“Hey there,” said the kiosk manager. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Um, not really,” Dipper said. “He’s just browsing.”

Bill made a small sound just then, and Dipper turned towards him. His face was screwed up in concentration, squinting his eye as if something was straining him. Then he squeezed his eye shut for a moment before shaking himself, opening it again. _What the hell is he reading?_

“Bill, are you okay?”

“Yeah, this picture is just messing with me. Look …” He held out the magazine to him. “How do they get it to move on paper like that?”

Dipper looked at the article. It was a passage about science discussing the anatomy of the eye and the brain. In the center was a picture of several blue, white, yellow, and black circles and, yes, when Dipper looked at them, they seemed to be swirling around. “Bill, that’s an optical illusion. It’s just your brain playing tricks on you.”

Bill looked at the picture again, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Oh, _this_ is what optical illusions are like?” Dipper nodded and Bill looked at the picture again. “This is insane! My eye was too good to fall for these things before. Human limitations certainly have some interesting effects.”

“Um, I guess they do.”

Bill nodded slightly, his wide eye glued to the page as he flipped through the article. The ferocity of his expression made Dipper chuckle.

The kiosk manager moved towards them. “If you or your boyfriend are interested, we’re offering half off on subscriptions to magazines under ten dollars.”

“Sorry, we’re just browsin—” Dipper paused, and then rewound the words in his head. He turned to the manager, heating up with embarrassment. “W-we’re not together or anything.”

“ _Oh_.” He had the decency to look abashed. “I’m so sorry, I just assumed …” For a split second, he glanced down at Dipper’s hand, which just a moment ago had been holding Bill’s hand.

Bill jumped in just then, holding out the magazine. “I want to buy this. How much?”

The manager seemed just as relieved by the intrusion as Dipper felt. “Oh, um, that’ll be 5.99.”

Bill withdrew the money from his wallet. The manager accepted the change with a nervous chuckle, and the two grabbed their bags and were on their way. Bill buried his nose in his new magazine, and reflexively held onto Dipper’s arm when the crowds began to thicken again.

He had become so used to Bill crawling all over him that Dipper hadn’t even thought about it anymore. Physical contact just seemed to be an occupational hazard. Of _course_ that guy that had assumed they were _together_ , who wouldn’t assume that of two people _holding hands_? And anyone listening in would assume _Pine Tree_ was just some affectionate pet name.

 _It’s just a mistake_ , he thought. _A pointless mistake._ He glanced down at the hand on his arm. _Should I shake off Bill's hand? It's giving people the wrong impression. But if I do, it might make things more awkward._ He shook his head. _Ah, fuck it. It's too late now. No reason to make things weirder._ He doubted Bill even noticed the ‘boyfriend’ comment anyway. He hoped he didn’t.

Dipper pushed open the door that led to the outside food court, a warm gust of wind washing over him. It was still sunny out with only a few spotted clouds. They were making good time.

The fortunate news was dampened by the mob that had developed in the court. Every stand had a long line parked in front of it. Dipper groaned, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a 20 dollar bill.

“Here,” he said, handing the money to Bill. “We’ll get our food faster if we split up. Hopefully, we can find an empty table in this mess.”

Bill stared at the dollar and then back to Dipper. “I can get whatever I want?”

“Yeah. Give me the change when you get back.”

Bill nodded, a determined light entering his eye as he dashed away. He seemed more enthused than someone about to wait in line for food should be.

Dipper decided to go for the Indian food stand. As he settled down at an empty table with his curry, he realized he was, once again, alone without Bill to distract him. He could try brutally smothering his thought process again, but then he figured it might be better to work through this

So he had a wet dream about Bill. Who cares? It’s not like it was the first sex dream he’s ever had. Hell, he had a dream like that about Pacifica one time, and it didn’t change the way he felt about her. So why would this be any different?

Okay … so he admitted it. Bill had some attractive physical qualities. He was small and cute and energized. But that didn’t change that he was still an ass. He still had an abrasive personality and a demented sense of humor and an annoying voice that could drive someone insane. He doesn’t act like a person. How could Dipper ever look at someone like that in a sexually attractive light?

Although, he guessed the voice thing didn’t really matter, as it wouldn’t be difficult at all to shut him up with a kiss. _It’s not like he would be rendered mute, though. He could still moan and pant and curse._ But he supposed that didn’t really bother him. He liked it when his partners were noisy. He remembered his old girlfriend, Michelle, and how she seemed to make a challenge out of being as quiet and as still possible during sex. It was awful.

No, Bill would be noisy. Squirmy, too. The guy couldn’t seem to sit still if his life depended on it, even when lying down on his back. He’d reposition his hands every few seconds, from Dipper’s hair to his chest to the bedsheets, probably hitting his head on the wall depending on where they were. He’d definitely hit his head on the headboard. Dipper imagined pulling up his shirt and pressing his cold hands against Bill’s soft, warm stomach. He would gasp, pulling away from the touch, but Dipper would follow him up the bed, moving his hands higher, tucking his head lower as he pressed his mouth against Bill’s parted lips—

A loud clattering broke him out of his trance and Dipper almost screamed. Bill had placed his tray on the table and was taking his seat, giving Dipper an odd look.

“Easy there, Pine Tree,” he said as if he were talking to a spooked horse. He leaned closer and then broke out a bewildered grin. “Holy shit, Pine Tree, what happened to your face? You look red as ketchup.”

“I-I …” Dipper cleared his throat, trying to unstick the words lodged in his chest. To his utter embarrassment, he found himself having to cross his legs. “Th-the, uh,” he glanced down at his food, “the curry is just really spicy.”

“Really? It is?” Bill glanced at the chicken with intrigue. “Can I have some?”

Dipper shrugged, wishing he were underneath a large rock somewhere. “Knock yourself out.”

Bill picked up one of the chicken wings, evaluating it for a moment before taking a large chomp out of it. His reaction wasn’t as violent as it once might have been, but his face still reddened and he had to take a large gulp of water. At least he seemed to be enjoying himself, which is more than Dipper could say for himself and his uncomfortably tightening pants.

If that didn’t prove it, he didn’t know what did.

He wanted to have sex with Bill.

Well, he didn’t know if _he_ wanted to have sex with Bill, but his body sure as hell did. Personally, he was still iffy on the idea, to put it lightly. Was all this just a reaction to the dream? Or was the dream a reaction itself to feelings that had already been present?

Dipper didn’t know and, frankly, it was making him incredibly anxious to think about. He stared at Bill, who was blissfully gnawing away at his chicken wing. He tore off a strip with his teeth, staining face with sauce, and he _still wouldn’t close his mouth while he was chewing_. It was like watching a wild animal eat.

 _Seriously?_ he asked his unconscious mind. _This is the guy you want us to sleep with?_

It shrugged.

Bill noticed his staring just then and raised a brow. “What?”

“You …” Dipper sighed, disappointed. “You’re disgusting.”

Bill blinked, clearly taken aback. “Yeah, well …” He looked at his plate, then picked up a French fry and dipped it in relish before sticking in on Dipper’s chin. “Now you have relish on your face.”

For a moment, Dipper didn’t know how to react. Then he cracked a smile, wiping the fry off of his face. “I guess that’s true, too. How much change do you have?”

Bill pulled out the leftover money and the receipt, dropping it in Dipper’s hand. Dipper pulled up the receipt. _Hotdog, French fries, medium fountain soda, the total is, blah, blah, blah …_ Just as he was about to crumple the receipt, something caught his attention. There was something written on the back.

Was that a _phone number?_ And there was a note written underneath it:

Call me sometime ;-)

-Trisha

 _You’ve_ got _to be kidding me._

“Bill, what’s this?”

Bill, hotdog already halfway in his mouth, made an unhappy grunt and looked up. Dipper held out the receipt, and Bill quirked a brow with confusion. “Uh … coordinates to an island filled with rotten zombies?”

“Dude, that cashier gave you their _phone number_.”

“So what?”

“So—” Dipper stopped himself, realizing that the social connotation of a phone number on the back of a receipt was probably lost on Bill. It was hard to believe any normal human could look at Bill and think he was dating material, but he knew Bill could be charming if he wanted to be. _And it’s not like you’re one to talk._ “I mean, usually, it means that whoever gave you the number is interested in you.”

“Well, I am very interesting.”

“You’re humble, Bill, I’ll give you that much,” Dipper said dryly. “They might want to go out with you. Just look at this winky-face.”

Bill looked at the winky-face, taking the receipt from Dipper. He took a bite out of his hotdog, chewing thoughtfully before he swallowed, and he shrugged. “Cool.” He started crumpling the receipt, and Dipper was struck with a brilliant idea.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, causing Bill to pause. “You should keep it.”

“I should?”

“Yeah. Keep it. You should call them and go out or something.”

“Go out where?”

“On a date.”

“A _date?_ You mean that thing where humans go hide in a dark alley and play suckface for two hours?”

“It might be fun.”

“It doesn’t sound like fun.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

Bill opened his mouth, only to slowly close it, shooting Dipper a poisonous glare. “I guess I haven’t.”

“Then how would you know if you haven’t tried it?” Dipper asked with a smug grin. Bill glared at him for another moment, and then looked curiously back at the receipt, lips pursed in thought. Then, he shrugged, stuffing the receipt into his pocket before pulling out his magazine and flipping through the pages as he ate his hotdog.

Dipper felt vaguely guilty about whatever poor soul gave Bill their number. But getting Bill involved with someone else might be the perfect way to deal with whatever these … _feelings_ were. The plan was foolproof.

As they continued to work through their lunch, Dipper found himself wondering just what Bill’s stance was on the idea of romantic relationships. Did he understand the concept? Did he even find humans attractive? He had always likened them to dogs or slugs, after all. Has he ever experienced sexual desire?

The questions stewed in his mind, but he was suddenly distracted by a small buzzing sound. He looked around and spotted a small bumblebee flying near Bill’s shoulder. Bill seemed to notice it at the same time, as he narrowed his eye and started rolling up his magazine.

“ _Shoo_ ,” he said, using the magazine as a bat to smack the bee out of the air.

“Bill, leave it alone. You’re just going to get it mad at you.”

“Not unless I kill it first.”

Dipper would have said something, but Bill was able to slap the bee midair and it flew off, buzzing angrily. Dipper rolled his eyes, shaking his head. But now he felt more inclined to speak, and so he cleared his throat.

“So, Bill. I was thinking about something.” Bill looked up from his magazine, slurping soda through his straw. “About … that phone number …”

“You’re really hung up on this thing, huh?”

“I’m not hung up over it,” Dipper said, hoping his face hadn’t gone red again. “I’m just … curious. You didn’t use to be human, after all. What do you find attractive in a partner?”

Bill drew away from his straw, swigging the soda in his mouth before swallowing. He belched, and Dipper scrunched up his nose. “Back in my dimension, it was all about power. More power meant you were more desirable. So I guess I could say that’s what I found attractive. But we didn’t do anything analogous to sex. It was all just hierarchy stuff, so it’s kind of a stretch to compare it to your simple procreative drives.”

“Really? Huh …” It wasn’t often Bill talked about his home dimension. A thought struck him, and he smirked. “I bet you were top dog then, right?” Bill glared at him, retreating behind his magazine and muttering darkly. The reaction surprised him a little. He assumed Bill had been considered quite powerful where he was from, but maybe not. “Well, are things different for you now that you’re human? Have you ever felt physically attracted to someone?”

Bill made a low noise of frustration as he lowered his magazine once again. “Define ‘physical attraction’.”

“Um …” Dipper scratched his chin. _How to word it …?_ “Well, it’s like you feel a certain pull towards someone you want to be with. Just, in a physical … uh, sexual way, I guess.”

Bill thought about it for a moment longer, before he shrugged. “I dunno, maybe? I hadn’t really thought about it. Sex and romance just sound way too complicated to me, anyway. I mean, really, just look at this crap.” He held out his magazine to Dipper. “You humans think that being born under a set of stars means you’re more or less compatible with people depending which stars _they_ were born under. Who even comes up with this garbage?”

“What, the horoscope?” Dipper took the magazine, scanning the article. His eyes automatically went to the Virgo category. ‘ _It's a new day, Virgo! And a new day brings new possibilities. Let go of past grievances and open your heart to the possibilities._ ’ _How quaint._ “Not many people actually take this kinda stuff seriously, though. It’s just fun.”

“Reading vague nonsense that can be applied to almost any situation is considered fun these days, huh?”

“Sure. What’s you star sign, Bill?”

“Pine Tree, how could I have an inborn ‘star sign’? I predate every star mankind has ever seen.”

“Hmm, good point.” Dipper scrubbed his jaw, trying to think of a close enough substitute. “How about July 5th? That’s when Mabel and I made your body.” Bill shrugged, and Dipper took that as a yes. “So that would make you a Cancer … here you are. ‘Stay on your toes, Cancer! There's a lot around the corner for you. You'll face challenges in your life and work, and an old acquaintance may surprise you.’ Seems like you’re in for a rough week.”

Bill huffed before stuffing a wad of fries into his mouth. Dipper opened his mouth to continue his line of questioning, but a small shape on Bill’s neck caught his attention. It started moving towards Bill’s cheek.

_Oh shit._

“Bill,” Dipper said, trying to be as still as possible. “Don’t move. On your face …”

“What?” Completely disregarding Dipper’s warning, Bill straightened up. Dipper tried to reach for him, but it was already too late. The bee lifted its haunches and stabbed the skin just under his right eye.

A moment passed where nothing happened, as if the world were still processing the situation.

And then Bill screamed.

…

“I told you not to mess with that bee.”

Bill fixed him with a furious, watery glare. The two of them had retreated to the bathroom to treat Bill’s bee sting. He winced as Dipper dug the tweezers into his skin and whimpered as the stinger was yanked out.

“What, you want a prize or something?” he asked, gingerly touching the swelling wound, only for Dipper to smack his hand away. He leaned over the bathroom counter and splashed himself with warm water.

“Do I want one? No. But I suppose it would be nice.” Dipper chuckled to himself, watching as Bill started cleaning the wound with the foamy hand soap. _I don’t think this guy has gone a week without injuring himself._ “You know, Bill, you might have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever known. Perhaps it’s just karma coming back for you.”

Bill surfaced from the sink, and Dipper held out a paper towel, which he took. “No such thing as karma, Pine Tree,” he said, drying his face. “If there was, I would have met her by now.”

“Looks like she’s been introducing herself lately. I can't imagine any other reason why so many terrible things have happened to you in such a short time.” Dipper thought back to the first summer when they had met, and had to force down the memory. “You’ve done some pretty awful things in the past. Maybe you should take this as a sign to clean up your act.”

“What? I’ve helped plenty of people before.”

“Really?” Dipper crossed his arms, eyebrow raised. “You've helped people out of the goodness of your heart? With no ulterior motives? Nothing in it for you?”

Bill looked down at the towel in his hands, frowning. “I helped you guys rescue that rotten manatee.”

"Hmm, that's true. But you only agreed to help in exchange for pasta, cake, and a month long pass from doing the dishes.”

Bill snorted, staring himself in the mirror as he appraised himself in the mirror. “I saved you from those rougarus, too. You ungrateful imp.”

A shudder passed through him. It had been over a month and Dipper could still remember the fear that had near paralyzed him at the sight of those horrifying wolf creatures. It still didn’t compare to the terror that had gripped him when he realize he had left Bill behind. The old guilt and shame came rushing back to him as if it were fresh. “You did save me from those rougarus. I guess I stand corrected.”

“Hmph.” Bill watched himself for a second longer before turning to Dipper, gesturing at his swelling face. “Well? How do I look?”

The entire area beneath Bill’s eye was bright red and puffy with a giant white welt in the center. It didn’t look good, and the paleness of Bill’s skin only made it worse. It was horrifying and gross, but at least it was contained. Dipper winced.

“You’ll be alright in a few days. We’ll stick an ice pack on it when we get home. That’ll help with the swelling.” Dipper undid the medium size band aid and smoothed it onto Bill’s cheek. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary. Bill really did have such a nice face. It was like a doll’s face, which was appropriate, considering his body’s origins. It had everything; bright eyes, a button nose, a pretty mouth, freckles—

With a jolt, Dipper narrowed his eyes. _How long …?_ He leaned forward, and Bill tried to lean back but Dipper still had a firm grip on his face. “Bill … since when did you have freckles?”

“What?” Bill shook off his hands and looked into the mirror. At first, Dipper thought it was a trick of the light, but there was no denying it. On the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks, a scattering of small colored dots had appeared. “You mean those spots?

“Yeah.”

“Huh. I hadn’t even noticed.”

“They must have been from all the sun you got at the beach house,” Dipper said, thinking back to the wicked sunburn that Bill had gotten. It felt like he would never stop complaining about it.

Dammit. Freckles were adorable. He _loved_ freckles. _And now Bill has them. Great._

Bill admired himself in the mirror for a moment, pulling at his face and stretching the skin. Then he made a small noise in the back of his throat. “Well then,” he said, pushing away from the counter. “It’s interesting how human bodies can change like that. I had the same body for a trillion years and it never changed. Well, not unless I wanted it to.”

“Hmm.” He forced himself to change his line of thought. “Come on. We’ll stop by Chaucer’s to get you some more shirts and we can leave.”

“Okie Dokie, Pine Tree.”

They made their way out of the bathroom and towards the second floor. By this time the crowds had become unbearable, and Dipper couldn’t wait to go home. As they walked, Bill would occasionally itch at his band aid, although he’d fling his hand back to his side when he saw Dipper’s pointed glaring.

Thankfully, Chaucer’s was one of the less busy stores in the mall, so they at least had some elbow room as they maneuvered the racks. Dipper had been correct in guessing Bill would find a few more shirts he liked, as he picked three out immediately. There was a few Dipper would have liked to buy himself, in fact, but the receipts were already too staggering as is. He didn’t need to contribute to it.

Bill continued his browsing, and he led them to the more adult section of the store. The sight of some blow up dolls seemed to amuse him a great deal. He found a whip in a bin and, with a sharp laugh, picked it up.

“Oh man, Pine Tree, you have got to get this for me.”

 _A pink whip?_ “What the hell would you even use that for?”

“I’d use it on you, of course.” Bill brought the whip forward and smacked the tail on Dipper’s shoulder. “Kneel, slave!”

“Bill, cut it out,” Dipper mumbled, annoyed and embarrassed.

Bill blinked, and then raised an eyebrow. He frowned, and tossed the whip back in the bin. Dipper couldn’t process his expression before he turned away and continued down the aisle. Regret welled up inside of him. _I shouldn’t be getting short with him. It’s not his fault I’m a wreck._ He followed Bill down the rack, promising himself to laugh at his next joke.

So … he admitted it. Quietly. To himself. The idea of having sex with Bill wasn’t entirely repugnant. He had nice hair and nice skin and kissable lips, and apparently that’s all Dipper’s body needed to get hot and bothered.

What did he do now?

_You could try telling him about how you feel._

Oh, because _that_ would go over well. Romance seemed like a big joke to Bill, at best. Dipper wouldn’t admit this to anyone even with his dying breath.

_Maybe there doesn’t have to be any romance. Maybe it can be a one night thing. No strings attached._

_Right. Because the_ last _time you had no-strings-attached sex went so well._

Dipper flinched, his mind curling in on itself as it tried to repress the memories and the awful feelings that came with it. _No. I can’t do that. Out of the question._ His bad mood sunk even lower. _Don’t think about it._

Thankfully, Bill was an eager distraction. When he walked back towards Dipper, he was holding his hand behind his back. Before Dipper could even ask, Bill held up a finger, demanding silence.

“Watch this,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone and the receipt. After quickly inputting the phone number, Bill brought it to his ear as it began ringing. Dipper opened his mouth, but Bill shushed him.

_What is he doing …?_

Dipper could hear a voice pick up on the other end. Instead of answering, Bill … breathed. He had begun taking long, slow breaths. His breath fogged up the phone screen. The voice became confused. _Oh my god, he’s really doing this._ Dipper felt another wave of regret. _Why did I tell him to keep the phone number …?_

“Quit it, Bill,” he said, reaching to take the phone. Bill reacted immediately, kicking Dipper in the shins and dancing away. He had started making slurping noises and Dipper groaned. “Seriously, you’re being a creep.”

A wide smile stretched across Bill’s face. He pulled his arm from behind his back, and Dipper only had a split second to process the air horn before Bill pressed down on the nozzle. An obnoxious blaring sounded from the horn and Dipper heard a scream on the other end. Dipper winced, and started wrestling Bill for the horn. He was able to snatch it away from him, but it was already too late. Everyone in the store was staring at them.

Bill had doubled over, wiping tears from his eye. “Ho-holy shit, Pine Tree, you should have heard that kid.” He wheezed, either not noticing or ignoring Dipper’s glare.

 _I blame myself_ , he thought, shaking his head. Really, what did he expect?

He grabbed Bill by the shoulder and pushed him towards the checkout stand, hoping he was just imagining the dirty looks.

He promised himself he’d laugh at the next joke that _wasn’t_ at somebody else’s expense.

…

With the shirts purchased, they left the store with new bags and headed towards the mall’s exit. Dipper was looking forward to whipping up a large pot of tea and sitting down to rethink his life. God, what was he even going to tell Mabel—?

 _You’re not going to tell Mabel anything, because there’s nothing_ to _tell._

Dipper tightened his jaw. That’s right. Nothing’s going to come out of these … feelings, he’s decided. They would fade. So there’s no point raising any alarms, right? He could handle this on his own.

As they neared the exit, Bill reached out for Dipper’s sleeve and brought them to a halt. _What the—?_ Dipper turned towards Bill, brow quirked, but Bill wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was looking at a large poster display in the window for the _Smith and Royal_ bookstore. It was a promotion for Dipper’s favorite mystery book series. The next installment was coming out soon; Dipper already had it preordered.

That didn’t explain what had Bill so enraptured.

“What is it, Bill?”

Bill looked at him, and his expression could only be described as nettled. “Since when was _The Painted History_ apart of a series?”

“Umm … always? It’s the _Chaos_ series. There’s four volumes total.”

“ _Four_ …?” Bill made a frustrated noise. “There’s _three_ more books and you didn’t even think to tell me about it? I thought the whole thing ended with Detective Hollis’ house burning down and the prime murder suspect getting away in that submarine.”

“ _God_ no,” Dipper said, horrified at the thought. “It turned out the prime suspect ended up—” He stopped himself. _Wouldn’t want to spoil it._ “Wow, you actually read that book I gave you in the hospital?”

“I read it twice.” Dipper’s brows went up and Bill shrugged. “I thought there was something I missed. But no, turns out there were _three more fucking books_ after that. Thanks for nothing, Pine Tree.”

He chuckled. “Okay, okay, no need to be grumpy. I have the whole series at home. You can read them once we get back.” He led them towards the exit, Bill tailing him with an eager expression. “So … you liked it, huh?”

 “The book? Oh, it was fine. It was better than that _Cape Capers_ series or whatever at least. Now _that_ series was the tritest thing I’ve ever read.”

“Since when did you read the _Capers_?”

“Uuh, a while ago. Back when I couldn’t sleep.”

“Bill, that series was for kids—”

“ _No excuse._ ” Bill’s expression told of unfathomable loathing, and Dipper, amused, decided to leave it there. He still couldn’t believe Bill had not only read _The Painted History_ , but enjoyed it. _Looks like being friends’ll be easier than I ever thought._

All the more reason to keep his feelings to himself. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

When they got outside, Dipper’s hopes of good weather were dashed. Cloying humidity had set in and the skies were darkened with gray clouds. It was just beginning to drizzle. The heavy rain would be here any minute. Bill pulled on his jacket’s hood and together they dashed through the parking lot, their bags bouncing around. They got into the car, and as he drove them out of the lot and onto the highway, fat rain drops began pelting the windshield. They made it just in time.

As Dipper navigated through the traffic, he was aware of Bill in his peripheral vision. He tried blocking it out, but he couldn’t seem to bring him out of focus. Bill was staring out the window, a small smile on his lips. Without warning, he popped open the glove compartment, sifting through the mess before pulling out a giant black marker.

“Check it out, Pine Tree,” he said, hoisting himself up to the rearview mirror. Before Dipper could say anything, he pulled off the cap and began drawing fat, messy lines on his face. When he sat back down he turned to Dipper with a wide smile and bright eye. Like a connect-the-dots game, he had drawn a little dipper on his cheek. “Tada! Now we’re two of a pair. I guess these freckle things are good for something after all.”

Dipper clenched his jaw.

_Goddammit._

He smiled with tight lips, trying to keep his eyes on the road. _Smile and nod. They’ll fade, I promise it’ll all fade. Just don’t indulge it._

“Pine Tree?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything …”

Dipper narrowed his eyes and glanced over. Bill was staring at him with an odd expression, and he licked his lips in thought.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked suddenly.

Dipper widened his eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Yeah. You’ve been out of sorts almost all day.”

“I …” Dipper blinked, and stared at the wheel. “Nothing’s wrong, Bill. I’m fine.”

Bill frowned, and then settled down in his seat, looking surly. “Mmhmm. You know, Dipper, I figured that that whole ‘friends tell friends what’s bothering them’ thing went two ways. Guess that was just you waxing more poetry, right?”

Shit.

Why did Bill always seem to know exactly which buttons to press with him?

They had reached a red light and Dipper eased on the brake. _Shit._ If he was looking so bad that even _Bill_ noticed something was wrong … _Or maybe he’s actually learned a thing or two about social empathy._

“Okay, okay. I … I guess I’m a bit nervous about turning 20 next week.”  _It's not like it's a complete lie._

Bill raised an eyebrow. “It’s your guys’ birthday next week?”

“Yup.”

Bill made a small sound, and Dipper knew at once he hadn’t been believed. Still, he didn’t know what else to do. The truth was off limits.

_Well, you could try being a tenth more honest with him._

Dipper exhaled a long breath through his nose. “It’s … weird. I guess I just have a lot on my mind, you know?” Bill still wouldn’t look at him, his lower lip jutting out in an endearing manner. He sighed. “I don’t think I can really talk about it right now. Please, try to understand.”

“I …” Bill shrugged, picking at his fingers. “I guess, Pine Tree. Whatever you say.”

Dipper frowned, feeling as if he made things worse. He tried to be the distraction for once. “The dipper thing is funny.” He waited until Bill looked up at him, and he smiled. “You’re right; it is a good use of freckles.”

Bill snorted. “I know, right? _Oh_. That gives me an idea …” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and sat up, bracing himself on the center console. He pressed himself close to Dipper’s side, raking his fingers through the fringe covering Dipper’s forehead.

“What on Earth are you _doing?_ ”

Bill didn’t answer for a moment, holding his phone out and pressing his face against Dipper's. “Say _Pine Tree._ ”

“Uhh, _Pine Tree._ ”

Dipper heard the shutter click of the camera. He sat back down in his seat, giggling under his breath. He showed Dipper the picture. Bill had positioned the mark on his cheek next to the birthmark on Dipper’s forehead.

“Star said I should take pictures every once in a while for her scrapbooks.”

Dipper chuckled, incredulous. “And you actually agreed to it?”

“Sure. I like looking at my own face.” He resumed to looking out the window, and Dipper realized he was just looking at his reflection. “As far as human faces go, this is a pretty nice face.”

“Yeah …”

Dipper shook himself. He had begun staring again.

_Keep it together, why don’t you?_

He clenched his teeth and refocused his attention on driving. The light turned green and he stepped on the gas pedal, resting his arm on the center console.

Halfway home, he heard Bill yawn and could see him stretching in his peripheral vision. A moment later, he felt a pressure on his arm. He looked over. Bill had curled up in his seat and was using his arm as a resting pillow. He had already begun snoring softly.

Dipper shook his head, releasing a deep breath. Gently, trying not to jostle Bill’s head too much, he reclaimed his arm and placed his hand back on the wheel. Bill didn’t wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It begins.
> 
> Time for more special fanart mentions!
> 
> [[aquart1999]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/140883698553/after-reading-chapter-11-i-just-couldnt-get-the) A submission to the DBC page. Chapter 11, the gang falling through the Mindscape. These are some pretty cool looking effects!
> 
> [[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/140540302682/some-various-bills-and-scenes-from-defining-bill) A couple of cute drawings of Bill. They're all very expressive, especially that last one. Poor noodle ...!
> 
> [[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/140593944472/more-fanart-for-defining-bill-cipher-the-winged) Chapter 4, post rougaru-attack. Dipper leaving Bill behind because Bill's life is awful, just awful.
> 
> [[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/140599648752/but-wait-theres-more-thisll-probably-be-last) Chapter 11, the planning phase. Oh, Bill. What a sad lil' nugget you are.
> 
> [[faluvian]](http://faluvian.tumblr.com/post/140666052225/athina-blaine-you-know-there-are-at-least) A drawing of Dipper, Mabel, and Pacifica's eye. Such subtle details. I love it. :')
> 
> [[faluvian]](http://faluvian.tumblr.com/post/140716308990/athina-blaine-my-brain-appears-to-have) Chapter 12, Dipper lying awake in bed, post disturbing dream. Haha, his reaction was a little delayed, but other than that, it's spot on. XD
> 
> [[galaxyyart]](http://galaxyyart.tumblr.com/post/140572341301/so-the-new-chapter-of-defining-bill-cipher-was) Chapter 11, Bill in the Mindscape and Bill and Dipper by the poolside. This is just amazing, I especially like the one with all of Bill's hands. Make his hair EVEN FLOOFIER!
> 
> [[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/140836619418/it-seems-like-during-my-sleepless-nights-i) Another submission. Doodles of Bill! I adore how strrix draws Bill, he makes the cutest faces and his hair is so nice looking.
> 
> [[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/140836817563/oh-yeah-also-a-doodle-of-mabel-taking-advantage-of) A drawing of Mabel flaunting her strength over Bill. My favorite thing ever!
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	13. Bill Cipher, the Unforgiven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of a guest causes conflict the day before Dipper and Mabel's 20th birthday.

“Dipper, can you pass me the glue?”

“Urmm, sure … Here it is.”

“Not the  _stick_ glue, Dip, the  _paste_  glue. Over there, on the nightstand by the bowl of glitter. Oh, grab that too, actually.”

“Mabel, I don’t know where you’re pointing- Oh, okay. I’ll get it.”

“Watch where you step, bro.  _Watch where you step—!_ ”

Bill heard a distinctive crunch. He kept his eye glued to the page of his book, kicking up his legs as he lounged on Mabel’s bed. Mabel shrieked.

“ _What did you just break?_ ”

“Nothing! I don’t think- No, it was just an empty bag of chips. God, Mabel, when was the last time you cleaned your room?”

“When was the last time you  _shut up_?” Mabel barked back. Bill snorted, earning himself a swipe to the head when Dipper walked pass. “Glue and glitter, please!”

“Okay, okay.”

Dipper returned to his sister’s side with the paste and the glitter in hand. Mabel was standing at the foot of a six foot tall, dolomite sculpture of a winged, obese cat with a sparkling crown and a bemused expression. It was her latest project, paid for by a school grant, and it took up a large part of her room. Bill couldn’t believe the woman could make such a monstrosity with her own two hands  _without_ needing to bend reality. He added it to the list of  _Things Shooting Star Has Impressed Me With._ The length of the list itself was another bullet point.

“Okay, Dip, start with the front half at the tail.  _Nobody touch the back legs_ , I still haven’t finished it.” She gestured towards the block of marble that had yet to be sculpted. It made it look like the cat was standing in a block of cheese. “Bill, can you do its front paws and its belly?”

“ _Aauuugh_. Noooo.”

“Bill, come on, you promised you’d help me with my statue.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, sitting up on the bed and holding the book to his chest, “that was before Detective Hollis discovered the underwater laboratory and found a hostile mutated shark-man.”

“Oh, that is a pretty good chapter,” Dipper said, applying the glue to the bushy tail. Mabel glared at him and he shrugged.

Bill nodded. “You understand now, Star? I’m needed elsewhere.”

Mabel sighed, shaking her head. “Well, I need you too, Bill. Besides, does  _Detective Hollis_ know how to make pepper omelets that may or may not be made for the person who will help me glitter-up this cat’s front paws and belly?”

“Oh, Detective Hollis does  _not_ know how to do that,” Bill said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He sighed. “You got me, Star. Mutant shark-man will have to wait.”

“Thank you.”

Bill dog-eared the page and tossed the book aside, standing up and stretching before making his way to the kitten statue. Dipper handed him the jar of paste, and Bill took a brief moment to remove his new hoodie and place it on the floor a safe spot a ways away.

He took the brush out of the jar and began swiping it over the designated areas. After every few swipes, he’d take a handful of the purple-and-pink glitter and, as Mabel instructed, blew it on the sculpture. Mabel specifically said to make it look like an angelic party god breathed on it. He wasn’t sure exactly what that looked like, since all the party gods he knew breathed nitric acid, but it felt like he was doing alright. Pretty soon his arms and shirt were swathed in the stuff. He imagined his face wasn’t that much better.

He and Dipper continued with their glue as Mabel worked around them. Her hair was in disarray and she was muttering under her breath; it was the perfect picture of an eccentric artist. Bill admired her determination to fit the role, although some of the charm was lost when she barked at him that the glitter on his part of the statue didn’t look “dusty” enough.

“I thought it looked pretty good,” Bill said with a pout.

“It does look good. If this were a  _preschooler’s_ project.” Mabel then crouched down next to him. “Alright, sweetie cakes, I think I know what you’re doing wrong. You’re just taking too much glitter with each handful. Here, watch …” She scooped up some glitter by her fingertips and blew it onto the statue. He supposed it did look dustier her way. “It doesn’t take much to make it sparkle, Bill. We’re using my own homemade glue, so none of this glitter is going to fall off once it hits the surface. Oh, and please don’t touch this statue before it dries or we might have to call the fire department. It’s  _really_ strong glue.”

“That’s cool,” Dipper said, and then added under his breath, “Maybe we could use it to glue Bill’s mouth shut.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bill asked.

“What?” Dipper looked up, looking as innocent as a lamb. “Oh, I didn’t say anything.”

“Mmmmpretty sure I heard you say something.”

“The, uh, window’s open, I think. Must’ve been a draft you heard …”

“ _Right_.” Bill dunked the brush in the jar, scooping out a large wad of glue. “You know, I’m not feeling too safe around you right now, Pine Tree. Keep up with the threats and I might have to take some preemptive measures.”

“Well now  _I’m_ not feeling safe,” Dipper said, leaning down to pick up one of the spare glue brushes. Bill tensed, holding out his brush like a sword. “You don’t want to do this, Bill. You know I’m a quicker draw than you.”

Bill didn’t answer. The two of them were still as they watched each other. Dipper’s fingers twitched, and Bill leaped forward, yelling. There was a crash. Dipper’s brush was suddenly inches away from his hair and Bill skidded backward trying to avoid it.  _No! It’ll take hours to wash that out!_

Thinking fast, Bill grabbed the thing that was nearest to him, the bowl of glitter, and threw it at Dipper. Dipper recoiled from the sparkly cloud, coughing. Bill took the opportunity to pounce, but Dipper responded almost instantly, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to the ground.

“ _Hey!_ Watch the glitter supply! I’m running low on that, okay?” Mabel snatched the brushes from their hands. “Don’t play with my glue either.”

“Sorry, Mabel.”

“Pine Tree started it.” Bill sneezed as the glitter settled on his nose. “Oh  _God_ , I think I’m dying.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Drama Queen.”

“Excuse me, but I am a Drama  _God._ Star, your brother is going nuts. Save me!”

“I don’t know about you, Bill,” said Mabel, stepping around the glue jar and standing above Bill. “From my perspective, I just saw a well-meaning citizen defend himself from a glue attack by a crazed lunatic.”

“Your perspective sucks.”

“There’s only one way to deal with crazed lunatics, you know.” Before Bill could even ask, Mabel crouched down next to him, cracking her knuckles. A wide smile twisted her mouth and in that instant he  _knew_.

“Oh God,  _no—_ ”

“ _Death by tickling._ ”

She immediately went for his stomach, tickling up and down his torso. A funny sensation swept over him and he lost all control of his body as he writhed and squirmed to get away. Breathless laughs and gasps were torn out of his chest. “N-no,  _no,_ st-stop it, Star,  _please—_ ” His head knocked against the bed. Tears had formed in his eyes. There was no escaping it.

The torture only ended when they all heard the distant sound of a knock. Mabel pulled back, looking towards the door. Bill scrambled away, sitting up and breathing heavily.  _Saved by the bell._

“Someone must be at the door,” Dipper said. After a beat, he said, “Not it.”

“Not it.”

“Wha—”

“Bill, you have to answer that.” Mabel wiped her hands and rose to her feet. Bill trained a pointed glare at her and she shrugged. “Hey, I don’t make up the rules.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“It’s probably just that vacuum guy again,” Dipper said, putting down the glitter bowl and picking up the glue. “Scare him off.”

“Oooh.” Bill sat up, intrigued. “Define ‘scare’.”

“Nothing that will lead to mental trauma. Just tell him we’re not interested in his product, alright?”

 _He didn’t mention anything about physical trauma._ “Gotcha.” Standing up, Bill dusted himself before grabbing his jacket and digging around in the pocket for his eyepatch. As he walked passed Dipper, he muttered, “Thanks for the help, Pine Tree.”

Dipper shrugged, barely concealing a smirk. “It was your just punishment, Bill. I know better than to get in the way of the criminal justice system.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor.”

Dipper chuckled, returning to the statue as Bill left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. He put on his eyepatch as he rehearsed what he would say in his head.  _Vacuums, eh? We don’t want any! Now back off or else we’re going to start playing The Most Dangerous Game out in those woods._ He snickered.  _Genius._

The guy was still knocking by the time Bill entered the gift shop. “Keep your pants on, man,” he murmured to himself, bare feet slapping on the wooden floor. He reached for the handle and pulled the door open—

“Happy birthday, kids!”

Bill’s heart stopped beating. Stanford Pines was standing in the doorway, smiling and holding his arms out. He was wearing his old coat and typical turtleneck, and his smile was slowly sinking away. His brow lifted in confusion and he lowered his hands.

“Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t think anybody else was here.”

Panic and adrenaline coursed through Bill’s blood as he stood there, limply holding the door. His heartbeat resumed at a million miles per beat.  _Think fast, think fast._  “Uh, yeah. I-I’m from out of town. I’m working with t-the—”

Ford’s expression darkened.

“Bill?”

Bill’s chest seized up. Ford took the silence for an answer and his expression became murderous.

_SHIT._

Bill tried escaping back into the house, but Ford moved faster than he thought possible. His hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar and before Bill could even think to retaliate, his other hand clenched into a fist and barreled into his gut. His breath was violently expelled from his lungs and he crumpled to the floor, gasping for air.

Ford loomed over him, still clutching his shirt. “I don’t know how you got your hands on that body, Cipher, but you made a big mistake.” He kneeled down next to him, reaching into his coat. Bill tried to squirm away, his throat burning.

“S-Sixer,  _please_ —”

Ford pulled out a small gadget and jabbed it into Bill’s neck. Bill heard a click and then a loud crack of energy shot through his body. His world short-circuited and he slumped to the ground, numb. His vision was a mesh of indecipherable colors and he could only distantly register the tugging feeling around his chest. He had no control of his limbs and it felt like two hands were squeezing his lungs.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before feeling started returning to his fingers. It had to have been only a few moments. When his eye was able to bring things into focus, they were still in the gift shop. His limbs were still unresponsive. He choked on a gasp when two arms wrapped around his chest and started dragging him across the floor. He turned his head to the right and spotted the vending machine. It had been pushed aside, revealing a doorway that led to stairs.

The panic returned. He couldn’t let Ford take him down there.

Bill tried squirming away and battering at the caging arms, but it did no good. His limbs felt too sluggish. Wheezing, Bill took the deepest breath he could manage, so much that his chest ached. His mouth moved, but only a weak, hoarse cry escaped his throat. He could only watch as he was dragged into the hallway.

…

Dipper stared at the opened door. He looked at Mabel. She had stood up and was facing the door as well, body ridged with alertness.

“You heard that, right? That thump?” she asked, concern painted all over her face. Dipper nodded and, setting down the bowl, walked briskly towards the door. Mabel followed him out. Dipper didn’t know why he was feeling so anxious; the Shack produced more than its fair share of strange noises. But Bill still wasn’t back …

He shook himself.  _I’m sure everything’s fine._

When they emerged from the hallway, he glanced towards the back door next to the kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary. He turned toward the gift shop, eyes narrowing when he saw the door had been left open.

“That’s weird …” He strode across the shop and looked around outside. Bill wasn’t there, neither was anybody else for that matter.  _Where did he run off to …?_  His anxiety increased. Something was wrong.

Then, as he closed the door, Mabel gasped.

“Dipper, the  _vending machine …_ ”

He turned around. The shop’s vending machine had been opened. Sharing an alarmed look with Mabel, he dashed towards the door and down the stairway. He reached the bottom of the stairs, then stopped in his tracks.

Bill was there, in the elevator, being manhandled by …  _Ford?_ Bill locked eyes with him, and he started writhing. His lips moved without making a sound. He looked terrified.

“ _STOP!_ ” Mabel yelled, dashing passed Dipper towards the elevator. Dipper blinked, snapping out of his trance, and ran after her. “ _GRUNKLE FORD!_ ”

Ford looked up, breathing heavily. When he recognized them, real fear entered his eyes. “Get back, kids!” he said, stepping further into the elevator. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”

He pressed the button, and Dipper watched in horror as the doors slid shut and the elevator descended. Mabel slammed into the doors with her shoulder, but it was useless. Dipper slapped the call button, his heart racing and his hands beginning to sweat.

“He doesn’t know everything about Bill, Mabel,” Dipper said, the reality of the situation fully creeping in. He looked at his sister. All the color had drained from her face.

 _He’s going to kill him_.

Clenching her jaw, Mabel faced the elevator. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she dug her fingers between the doors and, with a grunt, began slowly wresting them open. A vein popped in her neck and her face quickly flushed with exertion. Once it was pried a few inches apart, she wedged herself inside, pressing her back against one side and pushing the other with her legs.

“ _Go_ ,” she said through gritted teeth. Dipper ducked down underneath her legs, and once he had wiggled through, Mabel braced herself before forcing the doors open a bit further and turning into the elevator shaft. She almost toppled down into the pit, but Dipper, leaning onto the stationary cables, grabbed her and helped regain her balance.

“Bottom floor,” he said, breathlessly. She nodded.

As they climbed down the cables, his mind was stricken with horrifying thoughts of what they would find when they got there. He didn’t know the full extent of Ford’s history with Bill, the little he knew having been told to him by Ford while the man was drunk at Soos and Melody’s wedding two years ago. But he knew his great uncle’s inclination to enact draconian measures, and if he thought Bill was still a dangerous enemy …

_I should have answered the door, I shouldn’t have let him go alone, I should have told Ford everything, this is my fault, this is all my fault—_

They reached the parked elevator, and Mabel popped off the emergency hatch. They jumped down inside, Dipper’s knees twinging, and when they dashed into the laboratory, he saw Ford pinning Bill onto the ground. Bill scraped his fingernails against the concrete, trying to pull himself away, still breathlessly crying out for help. His eyepatch was gone. Ford had his bucking legs in an arm lock, and with his free hand, held out a vial.

“ _GRUNKLE FORD—_!”

“GREAT UNCLE FORD, STOP—!”

Ford tipped the vial’s contents onto Bill’s bare feet. The hissing sound it made and Bill’s screams were the most horrible noises he’s ever heard. His heart seized in his chest, and he wanted to cover his ears. He threw himself over Bill’s body as Mabel charged into Ford’s chest, pushing him away. Ford was shocked.

“What on Earth are you two  _doing_ —?”

“Grunkle Ford you don’t understand—”

Dipper tuned out the yelling, focusing entirely on Bill. He was sobbing now, trembling as he wrapped his arms around himself. As gently as he could manage, Dipper gathered him into his arms, and picked him up, whispering, “It’s okay, you’re going to be alright, you’re okay now.” Bill hid his face in Dipper’s shoulder, bunching up a clenched, shaking fist in his shirt.

He needed to get them out of here.

Hefting up Bill in his arms, Dipper made for the elevator.

“Dipper, wait!”

Reflexively, Dipper turned his head at Ford’s call. Ford was still being held back by Mabel. His earnest eyes held Dipper in place. “He’s  _dangerous_ , Dipper,” he said, voice laced with desperation. “He needs to be eliminated before he hurts somebody!”

“Hold him back, Mabel.”

“ _Dipper—!_ ”

But Dipper turned away, making for the elevator. Mabel was shouting something, and it wasn’t long before Ford’s voice joined the fray. He pushed the button and the doors slid shut. The elevator ascended, and it felt like ages before their arguing voices faded away. Soon, all he could hear was the rattling elevator and Bill’s gulping sobs.

Dipper looked down at the quivering body in his arms. How did this happen? They had just been enjoying a relaxing Friday afternoon. What was Ford even doing here?

_Our birthday is tomorrow. Ford must have been trying to surprise us._

Guilt cut through him. He had barely thought about what they would tell their great uncle about Bill. A part of him had been hoping to keep it a secret, to maintain Bill’s identity as an employee from out of town. But Ford must have been able to see through the human guise.

Bill took a shuddering breath, curling further inward. A rush of protectiveness surged through him and he held Bill tighter against his chest, continuing to whisper reassurances. The elevator dinged and opened, and Dipper tried to walk as fast as he could without jostling Bill too much. Furious blisters had broken out on his feet.

He tried to remember the proper treatment of acid burns.  _W-we need to get rid of the acid as soon as possible. Flush the wound._

He made for the bathroom and sat Bill down on the side of the tub. Positioning Bill’s burned feet under the spout, he turned on the water until it was a cool cascade. Bill flinched when the water made contact, but Dipper held him close, rubbing small circles in his back.

Slowly, Bill calmed down. His sobs dwindled into rough breaths and an occasional hiccup. He leaned down to rub his red and puffy eyes. Tear tracks stained his flushed cheeks. He looked like a mess, and it made Dipper’s chest hurt. Neither of them spoke.

As the acid was rinsed off, Dipper found himself staring at the blisters. It was a horrid sight, but something seemed off about it. It took a moment for him to realize that the binding marks on Bill’s feet looked melted. Small rivulets were running down his skin.  _Was Ford aiming for the marks this whole time? What would he have done if we hadn't heard anything?_ The thought unsettled him deeply.

When the wound was clean, Dipper closed off the spout. Bill turned and, with Dipper’s help, was able to rise to his feet. He still leaned heavily against Dipper’s shoulder as he was led to the kitchen, where Dipper pulled out a chair for him and he sat down. Dipper crouched down next to him.

“I’m going to put some medicine on the burn and wrap it in a bandage, okay?”

For a moment, it felt like Bill hadn’t heard him. He was staring at the wall, expression blank. But when Dipper opened his mouth to repeat himself, he suddenly blinked and looked up at him. Dipper was sure he hadn’t comprehended a word he said. He kneeled on the floor in front of him, placing a hand on his knee.

“You’re okay. I promise I’m going to take care of you.”

Bill stared at him, eyes filled with lingering pain and sadness. As Dipper moved to stand, the sound of a banging door caught his attention. That had to be Ford and Mabel. Just as he was about to turn, though, Bill’s hand suddenly shot out and grabbed Dipper’s shirt. Bill pulled him down closer and hid his face in Dipper’s chest.

Dipper’s face went red. “Bill—?”

It was too late to question it, for Ford and Mabel barged into the kitchen just then, both quiet. Ford, for his part, looked deathly calm. The only signal that he was even slightly upset was his clenched jaw. Mabel made no effort to hide her fury. Dipper couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her so enraged. She walked around Ford and settled down next to Dipper and Bill, eyes stormy.

“I tried telling him, bro,” she said. Bill reached out for her hand and she let him take it, and he held it in his lap. “He doesn’t want to listen.”

Dipper looked back towards Ford, but Ford wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at Bill, frowning. His expression had contorted with disgust and anger.

“How  _dare_  you,” he spat. “How dare you use my niece and nephew as a shield?”

“He’s not using us as a shield, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel snapped. “We  _want_ to be here.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“He’s  _our friend._ He kept us from getting arrested. He saved Dipper’s life and almost got himself killed!”

“Ford, I want to talk to you,” Dipper said, hoping he was just imagining the quiver in his voice. “Can we go outside?” Ford tightened his lips, eyes flicking from Mabel to Bill and back.  _He’s worried about Mabel being alone with him,_ Dipper realized. “I’ll leave the door open. You can hear if anything happens, alright? I just need to talk with you.”

Ford didn’t answer for a moment, taking special care to keep his thoughts from appearing on his face. Then, he nodded with a grunt. Dipper rose to his feet. Bill still kept a firm grip on his shirt, although he let go the minute Dipper gently touched his hand. “I was about to get some medicine for him,” he said to Mabel. She nodded.

Dipper walked towards Ford and out of the kitchen. Ford followed onto the back porch. He kept the door ajar, and Dipper couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of disappointment. Taking a deep breath, he then turned to face his great uncle. Ford seemed a bit calmer now that Bill was out of his line of sight, but he radiated severity.

“Tell me what happened.” It was a direct order. Dipper straightened his back, trying to organize everything in his head.

“I-it was about two months ago. Maybe a week after Mabel and I moved into the Shack. Bill came to Mabel in a dream and asked that we make a body for him. He said he was in danger.”

“And you  _believed_  him? You gave him a body?”

“Sort of. We didn’t hurt anybody, we just made him one from a mannequin. You can read the ritual notes in one of the journals.”

A curious light entered Ford’s eyes, and Dipper knew he was intrigued. Still, he tucked it away, adjusting his glasses. “What were you thinking, Dipper? I may have expected something like this from Mabel, but you? He’s not some helpless stray dog, Dipper, he’s dangerous.”

“I … At first, I didn’t care that he said he was in danger. But he said he wouldn’t be connected to the Mindscape anymore, and I figured I’d be getting rid of a powerful enemy.”

“Wait,” Ford narrowed his eyes and Dipper bit his lower lip, “he’s not connected to the Mindscape anymore?”

“W-well … yeah, he still is, actually,” he mumbled, quiet as he could. Ford’s frowned. “I know how that looks, alright? But he wasn’t lying to us, he didn’t know he’d still be connected. Besides, he’s actually jumped in a few times to help us out. The rougarus …” Dipper thought back to when Bill told them about his first Mindscape jump. “We were attacked by a pack of rougarus and I almost got caught. Bill helped me up when he could have just left me behind.  _I_ was the one who ended up leaving him, and he was badly hurt when we found him.”

“I presume the rougarus are what Mabel was referring, too, then,” Ford said with an arched brow. “What were you two doing alone in the forest to begin with?”

“W-we were … we were looking for some perytons—”

“It was his idea to bring you in there, wasn’t it?” Ford took Dipper’s silence as an answer. “Don’t you  _see,_ Dipper? He’s tricking you into thinking he’s something he’s not!”

“You can’t just  _plan_ for something like that—”

“Maybe you or I couldn’t, but Bill is an abomination beyond human understanding. His vision extends through dimensions of time as well as space.” For a moment, Ford’s expression became pained. “And now he’s using your guilt to control you. This is worse than I originally thought …”

Dipper couldn’t think of anything to say. Yes … he supposed it was true he had been feeling guilty lately, for the rougarus, for the way he acted at the beach house. It’s true he’s taken to spoiling Bill, maybe to make up for what happened. But  _dammit_ , there’s  _no way_ Bill could have planned for all that. Dipper had been there. He had  _seen_ his broken body in the forest’s river. He had seen him break down on the deck of Pacifica’s house. He had held him while he sobbed not five minutes ago. There’s no way anybody’s  _that_ good of an actor.

“He’s not trying to control me.”

Ford shook his head. “Place a frog in cold water and slowly heat it, and it will be boiled alive.”

“He’s  _different_ now.” Dipper tried to put all his desperation for Ford to understand into words. “Being in that body’s done things to him,  _good_ things. He’s not the monster he was in the past. For God’s sake, he can’t even sleep in his own bed without me there—”

“Wait, wait. That means … are you sharing beds with him?”

Dipper’s jaw snapped shut, instantly regretting letting that tidbit slip. Ford looked horrified.

“You’re letting him sleep in your BED? Are you  _insane?_ He could kill you in your sleep and be miles away before anyone finds you!”

“He gets scared when he tries to sleep by himself!” Even by his own ears, it sounded absurd. “It’s been happening for a while and he hasn’t done anything yet. Just—” Dipper held up a hand when Ford tried to speak, “—look, that’s not important right now, okay? He isn’t trying to hurt anybody, especially not me or Mabel. You have to believe me when I say he’s changed—”

“I believe you  _think_ he’s changed.” Dipper gritted his teeth at being interrupted again. “Listen, Dipper. I know Bill better than anybody else. He tells you what you want to hear and acts like the person you want him to be. He is patient, and conniving, and  _evil_. You think that new body proves his innocence? He has a plan to get out of it, I promise you, and, once that plan comes to fruition, you and me,  _everyone_  on this whole plane of existence is doomed!”

It was a tremendous blow. Dipper scrambled to come up with a retort, but Ford continued without mercy.

“I've seen things, Dipper. I've seen space itself aflame across lifeless galactic clusters; an entire dimension falling apart into ashes. That's Bill's idea of fun. That's what he does. That's what he is. And you have invited that into my house and into your  _bed!_ "

“He’s my  _FRIEND_ —”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT—”

A loud honking roused the two of them. An unfamiliar car was pulling up into the driveway. When he spotted who was in the driver’s seat, he relaxed.

Stan threw the rental car in park and held up his arm as he exited the car. He was wearing his favorite Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned, and had a deep, Mr. Universe tan. “Hey! You two get the hell off my lawn! Can’t you read the sign? NO SOLICITORS.” He laughed at his own joke.

“G-Grunkle Stan, hey,” Dipper said, waving as well. He tried to unwind himself as much as possible as Stan approached him from across the lawn and wrapped him up in a big hug. His Hawaiian shirt smelled like cigars and excess cologne. It made Dipper nostalgic. “I-it’s so great to see you. What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you.”

“What, a guy can’t surprise his great nephew and niece on their birthday?” Stan chuckled and winked, mussing his hair affectionately. He turned towards Ford, clearing his throat. “Good seeing you, Sixer.”

“Stanley,” Ford said coolly, readjusting the lapels on his coat. Stan snorted through his nose. Either he didn’t notice the tense atmosphere, or he didn’t care. Dipper would have put money on the latter option.

“I guess you both had the same idea, coming up here,” Dipper said with a small chuckle. He needed to get out of here, this anxiety was going to kill him. He wanted to see how Bill was doing. “Need help with any luggage, Stan?”

“Nah, I’ll worry about it later. I just wanna kick my feet up for now, you know? That plane ride was horrible.” Grunting as he stretched out his back, he made for the door. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt your important nerd meeting or anything. Hey, squirt, you guys got any beer on ya?”

“Um, yeah. Mabel’s got some on the top shelf in the refrigerator.”

“Haha, I knew I could count on her.”

Stan hesitated for a moment, eyes flicking from him to Ford and back to him. He drew his eyebrows together in a meaningful manner, and Dipper nodded. Stan bowed his head and retreated into the house, keeping the door ajar. He could hear Mabel’s excited voice from the inside.

They were alone again. Ford was scrubbing his jaw, still staring holes into the deck.

“You have any luggage, Ford?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. I have everything I need in this storing widget.” He opened his coat and pulled out a small disk device that Dipper had never seen before. “I invented it myself,” Ford said with a proud grin, placing it back in his pocket.

Dipper smiled. “That’s pretty cool.” It actually sounded amazing, and he’d be inclined to ask about it any other day, but not now. They slipped back into silence. It consisted of awkward shuffling and side glances. Eventually, Dipper was able to clear his throat. “You know … it’s really good to see you again, Ford. It’s, uh, been awhile.”  _Five months, actually. Since me and Mabel’s graduation ceremony._

Ford looked up, his expression still strategically composed. Then, the ice broke and he melted, releasing a quick breath and a crooked smile and extending his arms. “It’s great to see you too, Dipper.”

Dipper accepted his hug, pressing his face into his shoulder. Ford’s coat always smelled like ash and a sulfuric chemical. It made him feel twelve years old again.

“I’m sorry,” Ford said as they pulled away. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’m just … worried about you two.”

“I know. And I know Bill’s done awful things, to you and to who knows how many other people. But … I’m  _telling_ you. He won’t hurt anybody.” Ford’s expression clearly stated Dipper hadn’t been believed, but he didn’t say anything. “If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility, alright? Just call a truce or something.”

Ford grunted, and Dipper took that as an answer. Something told him that Bill was no longer at risk of being attacked on sight, although they were still walking on a tightrope.

This was going to be a long birthday.

“Let’s go,” he said, leading them towards the door.

“Wait.” Ford placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, digging around in his coat with the other. He pulled out what looked like a purple switchblade, handing it to Dipper. “Here. It’s a plasma-bladed switchblade. Just in case there’s an emergency.”

Dipper took a deep breath through his nose, keeping his hands in his pockets. Like he’d need a knife to take Bill down. Underneath Ford’s burning stare, however, he felt like he had no choice. He sighed and took the knife, stuffing it in his pocket.

“Come on,” he said.

They walked back inside towards the kitchen. Stan and Mabel were in the middle of the hug. A big smile was on Mabel’s face as she pulled away, mumbling something Dipper couldn’t quite catch. Stan patted her on the back. Mabel seemed to notice the two of them step in just then, as she turn towards them and her smile fell away. She tightened her lips together, stepping closer towards Bill as she glanced from Dipper to Ford to Dipper again. When Dipper held up his hands in a non-threatening manner, she lowered her hackles, although she continued to hover over Bill.

Bill had yet to move from the kitchen chair. His feet had been bandaged, Dipper noted with relief, and he was also now holding Mabel’s stuffed platypus to his chest. He was glaring at the floor, not even looking up at Dipper.

“So who’s the kid here?” Stan asked, glancing towards Bill as he walked around the table towards the fridge.

“Oh, uh.” Mabel blinked, shaking herself as she looked back at Stan. “This is Bill. He’s, uh …” She shot a desperate glance towards Dipper, pleading for help. He shrugged, just at as much of a loss. “It’s complicated,” she said finally, “but he’s been helping us out around the Shack.”

“Good to hear,” he said, cracking open a can of light beer and sitting on the table across from Bill. “I was wondering how you guys were doing running this place on your own.”

“It definitely hasn’t been easy,” Dipper said with a nervous chuckle. “But it pays the bills, and we actually made a bit of a profit last month.” He could feel Ford’s presence at his elbow, arms crossed and gaze trained directly at Bill.

Stan drummed his fingers as the silence stretched. “So, uh. Kid. Where you from anyway?”

Bill took a breath through his nose, his lips tightening together. “How about you ask your brother? It looks like he’s dying to say something. I wouldn’t want him to explode and get his brain matter all over the walls.”

Ford inhaled sharply, and couldn’t seem to resist rising to Bill’s challenge. “His name is Bill Cipher. He’s a demon from another dimension and is currently inhabiting an artificial human body for unknown, potentially sinister, reasons.”

Dipper scrubbed the back of his neck, Mabel glowered, and Bill sniffed derisively. Stan held his can halfway to his lips, eyebrow raised. “Uhh, yeah,” he said, coughing. “If I had a nickel for every time I heard that …” He took a long sip from his beer, shooting Dipper a befuddled look as if asking,  _What the fuck did I walk in on?_  “You two know each other, then?”

“Oh, we go way back,” Bill said.

“Well, I guess that makes sense. Ford always had weird social circles. Oh, oh, remember that one time he let out his buddy's flappy bat thing last Halloween and it flew into that teenager’s face?”

“It was a Castor Birostris, Stanley, and I did not  _let it out_. But that is neither here nor there.” Ford held up his hands and then pointed at Bill. “What matters is that this dangerous  _thing_ has been living with our kids for the better part of two months!”

“Maybe you should be a little more hesitant to deep-six people, Sixer,” said Bill, still staring meekly at the ground. “Here I am, trying to pull my weight and turn over a new leaf in this little flesh cage of mine, all on the sole condition that I am allowed to, you know,  _not_  die. Then you come in trying to murder me in cold blood and ruin it all. Attempted murder is still a crime for most human cultures, isn't it? Frankly, I don't see how  _I’m_  the bad guy in this scenario.”

“He’s right, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, crossing her arms and glaring somewhere around Ford’s feet. “You need to apologize to Bill.”

“ _Apologize?_ ”

“You poured _acid_ on my feet _,_ ” Bill snapped.

Stan spat up his drink. “You did  _what?_ ”

“I did that because I thought you were a threat to Dipper and Mabel. After everything you’ve done? How couldn’t I? I am  _not_ the bad guy, here.”

“ _Ford_ ,” Dipper said with narrowed eyes.

“Uh, Ford, I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything,” said Stan. “Far from it, actually. But you can’t just go around throwing acid on people’s feet. Trust me, it’s not good for the reputation.”

“I’ll say it a  _million_ times if I have to, Grunkle Ford,” said Mabel, throwing her hands out and meeting Ford’s eyes. “But Bill is our  _friend_ now. He’s done good before and he’s a better person than he thinks. He’s done terrible things to you in the past, I get that, believe me I do, but you have to give him a chance.”

“I’ve given him plenty of chances in the past,” Ford said. “Too many.”

Mabel clenched her jaw, much in the way Ford had. “If you’re not even going to apologize for trying to  _kill_ him, then I don’t want to talk to you. Come on, Bill.” She turned her back to Ford and looked down at Bill, continuing in a soft voice, “You can rest in the living room. I don’t think you should try the stairs just yet.”

Bill had finally looked up from the floor and was staring up at Mabel with wide, astonished eyes. He blinked rapidly and then shook himself, rising to his feet. He still clutched the platypus to his chest as Mabel helped him limp out of the kitchen. Dipper stood aside. Mabel didn’t look at either of them while they passed through the doorway, but Bill glanced at him, eyes full of questions.

Dipper gently touched his arm as he passed, trying to be reassuring. They left the kitchen, disappearing behind the corner. Dipper sighed, turning towards the room’s remaining occupants. Ford was practically vibrating with frustration, folding his arms. Stan was staring at his beer can as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Then, he coughed, rising to his feet.

“You know, I think I’m gonna make a visit to the little boy’s room. You know us old people and our sensitive bladders.” Stan patted his flabby abdomen with a chuckle and Dipper cracked a smile for him.

“You think we’ll be able to stop by the lake before you go back?” he asked as Stan approached the doorway.

“Are you kidding? As if I’d miss the opportunity to remind this hick town who’s the real fishing champion in these parts.”

Dipper smiled and Stan left.

It was just him and Ford again, but his mind was already in the living room with Mabel and Bill. He was angry at Ford. He was angry at the universe for letting this happen. But most of all, he was angry at himself. He exhaled a long breath. “Just  _try_  getting along with him. For our sakes, at least.” Ford didn’t say anything, but Dipper expected that. Shaking his head, he tucked his hands into his pockets and turned to leave for the living room, but a sudden thought stopped him. “Ford?”

“Yes, Dipper?”

“You were …” He paused to lick his lips, trying to organize the words in his head. He said softly, “You were aiming for his binding marks, weren’t you?”

Ford nodded, readjusting his glasses. “I saw them on his feet and recognized them on sight.”

“But why? Why would you go for them like that when you could have just, you know … stabbed him?”

“Bill is an ancient creature of chaos and destruction. I doubt a mortal death is all it would take to eradicate his existence. Damaging all the binding marks is the only way to render him completely inert.”

“And … what would happen if all the marks were damaged, exactly?”

“Bill’s incorporeal form, his ‘soul’, if you will, suffered extreme trauma when he chose to take that synthetic body. It’s a highly unstable process; those marks are the only thing keeping him together. Should they be destroyed, the body would immediately shut down and enter stasis. Due to the fragmentation of his incorporeal form, Bill would be forced to stay in the body, unable to move or perceive anything, even after the body has died and decomposed into dust.”

The explanation and Ford’s casual manner chilled Dipper’s blood. He might have well had been doing a lecture the theory of gravitation rather than describing a fate he had been entirely ready to inflict on Bill.

 _Alone._   _Trapped in darkness. Forever._

“R-right,” he said in a small voice and left for the living room.

He wished he hadn’t asked.

…

It was almost one o’clock in the morning, but Bill couldn’t sleep if he tried. And he’s definitely been trying. The living room couch proved to be much less comfortable than he remembered, and it didn’t help that every shadow in the corner of his eye looked like Ford looming over him. His stomach felt like it was on fire; there was sure to be horrible bruises there tomorrow. With a sigh, he held Ser Jimsworth closer to himself, readjusting his head on the pillow.

It was shaping up to be a  _really_ bad night.

His misery was slightly dampened by Dipper’s presence, who was sitting on the floor at the foot of the couch, fast asleep. Mabel was there, too, although she was rummaging around in the kitchen just then. The TV was on, throwing distorted colors over the dark room. The two had spent the better part of the last few hours trying to cheer him up via complaining about Gravity Falls’ local channels.

When it finally felt like he’d be able to keep his eyes closed and drift off to sleep, something panicked kept stopping him and he’d jerk awake. The darkness that has always plagued him had taken on a new form; an image of a murderous Ford with eyes hidden behind his glasses. If Dipper or Mabel hadn’t had heard him …

A shiver shot down his spine. He squirmed until he was closer towards Dipper, nuzzling his forehead into the back of his head. It did bring him some manner of comfort, as did hearing his steadying, calm breathing. He only wished they were back in Dipper’s bed and Bill could use his chest as a pillow, listening to his heartbeat. He only wished this entire day never happened.

 _I've seen things, Dipper._ The conversation he had overheard came back to him. _I've seen space itself aflame across lifeless galactic clusters; an entire dimension falling apart into ashes. That's Bill's idea of fun. That's what he does. That's what he is._

 _Pssh,_ Bill thought, curling the blanket tighter around himself.  _You_ wish  _you knew me that well, Ford._ It wasn’t like he  _wanted_ his entire dimension to go up in flames. He had new powers and he wanted to show them off to his friends. Things … just got out of control a little bit. He sighed.  _Might want to keep that part to yourself._

Well, he liked things other than chaos, anyway. He liked … spaghetti. He definitely liked the twins. Pacifica could be considered tolerable. That mystery series he’d been reading was nice. Ser Jimsworth had soft fur. And …

_And …?_

_Do you really think that changes_ anything _? Two months in a human body and you think that makes any difference? You’re Bill Cipher, dream demon extraordinaire! People are your toys. The universe is your playground._

_I … but—_

_You’re chaos and destruction incarnate. You’ve been that way for over a trillion years, and you’ll be that way for a trillion more. That life is what you’ve always dreamed of having. People hear your name and they’re terrified. Don’t you like that? Don’t you like it when people are scared of you?_

He thought back to the stint with the police officers. The power that coursed through him. Seeing the fear on their faces and the amusement and rush it had given him. It was the best he had felt ever since caging himself in this fleshsack.

Dipper took a deep breath in his sleep just then, snapping Bill out of his doze. A bad feeling washed over him just then. Dipper had been afraid of him once. He still remembered the nightmares he saw during the night of their negotiation. The bad feeling settled in his chest, something that felt a tad bit like regret.

_Not when it’s him._

He wondered if Dipper still had that knife in his pocket.

A shadow appeared in the doorway and Bill flinched. When he realized it was only Mabel he relaxed with a quick breath. She approached the couch and sat down, holding a double-popsicle in her hands.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you were still awake.”

Bill exhaled sharply through his nose, stretching out on the couch. “ _Nnnn_ ope. This party’s going 24 hours 7 days a week, doll face. You think I could break my old record? What was it, four days? I like my chances.”

“Please, no,” Mabel said with a soft smile. “We were both so scared for you. While you were having your meltdown in the attic, you asked me why I wasn’t wearing my skin and told Dipper he was getting tear blood on his shirt. Although, that may have just been the caffeine overdose.” She held up her popsicle. “Want one?”

A frozen sugar stick did sound rather delicious right then. He nodded, and Mabel snapped the treat apart, handing it over. He stuffed it into his mouth, softly chewing it.  _Mmm. Blueberry._ He shivered.

They ate their desserts in silence, Bill loudly slurping his and Mabel quietly nibbling on hers. After a while, Bill felt uncomfortable. Mabel’s brow was furrowed, eyes staring at nothing. Bill was starting to get the hang at recognizing human facial expressions. He saw … a  _lot_  of anger. Contemplation. Maybe even sadness? He could never tell with that last one. It had always been tricky to identify.

“Is everything all right, Star?”

“Hmm?” Mabel looked up, chewing on a large chunk of ice. “Oh, I’m fine, I guess.”

Bill frowned, unsatisfied with that answer. He remembered Dipper’s weird evasion in the car last week, which  _still_ had yet to be explained.  _What’s with these two and never fessing up?_ “What is it with humans telling everyone ‘I’m fine’ when they’re clearly the opposite of fine?”

Mabel blinked, and then a small smirk creased her lips. “It’s a defense mechanism.” Then, she released a long, pained sigh. “I’m just … I’m just  _so sorry_  what happened to you today, Bill.”

Bill snorted. “Not nearly as sorry as I am, Star.”

She looked down to the floor, munching on the remains of her popsicle. “I keep thinking about everything I could have done differently.” She released an angry breath. “I should have gotten the door. I should have ran faster to the elevator. I should have climbed down the cables faster or  _something_. It’s my fault this happened.”

Bill narrowed his eyes, disturbed by her words. “Cut the bullshit, Star. It’s not your fault your great uncle is a lunatic.”  _Well, I suppose that’s my fault, actually._ But he kept that tidbit to himself.

Mabel huffed. “No, I guess not.” With the popsicle gone, she evaluated the stick for a moment before snapping it in half. She sighed. “Um … I don’t know if you know about this, Bill, but, um … when we were kids, Ford offered Dipper an apprenticeship with him. It was such an incredible opportunity. I overheard their conversation on the radio and … it was about the worst day of my life. Dipper tried to talk to me about it, but I ran into the forest and, God, I think I cried for hours. The thought of growing up without Dipper there …”

She took a shuddering breath. Bill tightened his jaw, unsure of what to say or do.

“But we talked about it, and then Dipper said he was going to turn down the apprenticeship, and … I guess I’ve always felt bad about it.” Leaning up against the couch, she hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “I mean, what would Dipper be right now if he had chosen the apprenticeship? Ford could have made a ghost hunter out of him, or he could be exploring the billionth dimension or something. But he chose to stay with me, and … and now he’s running the Shack that can barely break even and spending almost every dollar he makes from his books on my tuition and …” She trailed away, sighing.

Bill shook his head, incredulous.

How could somebody like  _Mabel_ have insecurities as absurd as  _this?_  She was …  _Mabel_. Unafraid and headstrong and  _stubborn_. He had always been a little afraid of her, for the same reasons he liked her so much. Having Dipper by her side only made her that much more formidable, and vice versa. If anyone could have defeated him for good back then, it was the two of them together. And yet she was worried about whether splitting up would have been for the best?

He didn't understand. The only thing he could think to do was offer physical reassurance. It always made him feel better when Dipper or Mabel gave him a hug or stroked his hair. Slowly, he reached out until he could brush her shoulder and awkwardly patted it. Mabel didn’t react to his touch.

_That didn’t work. I’m not cut out for this!_

“Star?” Mabel looked up, not making an effort to hide her sadness. It filled Bill with slight panic, and he retrieved his hand. “Um. Look, I know I’m not the best person to give advice on emotional therapy, but, uh … You should probably just talk to Pine Tree about this, you know?”

For a moment, Mabel’s expression was unreadable. Then, she released a small laugh, turning her head and rubbing her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Bill. I didn’t mean to vent. You hardly need this right now. I just … always think about these things whenever Ford comes to visit.”

“Don’t mention it. You, um … what you said to Sixer, earlier? About the, uh, better person thing?”

“Yeah?”

“Well.” Bill’s tongue felt it was tying up, and he was at a complete loss what to say. It was difficult to put into words what Mabel’s vouch had made him feel. “I just, um, wanted to say it was—” Bill struggled with the words, not able to vocalize his actual feelings “—it was about time I got some praise around here,” he said quickly, wincing as he did so.

But Mabel laughed softly. “And I’ll say it again. Ford was acting like a complete ogre today.”

“Did you … did you mean it?”

“What?” It had been spoken a bit too loud and Dipper started shifting in his sleep. The two of them watched him with baited breath before he eventually settled back down. Mabel turned back towards Bill, eyes narrowed. “Of course I meant it, Bill. You’ve been a good friend to us. You saved my brother’s life. That more than redeems you in my eyes.”

Bill thought back to Ford and Dipper’s conversation.  _It was his idea to bring you in there, wasn’t it? He’s tricking you into thinking he’s something he’s not!_ “Even if it was my fault we were there to begin with?”

“Wha- Bill, you can’t blame yourself for that. Dipper’s a grown man. He didn’t have to go into the forest with you. Don’t let Ford get to you, alright?” Mabel reached out, gently taking his hand. “Don’t let him define you. You’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past and did a lot of bad things, but you’re growing. You’re  _trying_. You’ve changed a lot since moving in with us, and I’m really proud of you, you know?”

“I …” A funny feeling was tangling in Bill’s chest, and it vaguely felt like he was being suffocated. He wasn’t until he felt the itching in the back of his eyes that he realized he was on the verge of crying  _again_. He batted Mabel’s hand away. “S-shut up, alright? Quit being such a sap, you’re making me sick.”

Mabel snorted, bringing a hand to her mouth. “You’re so fucking cute, Bill, you know that?” She ruffled his hair, and Bill squirmed, pushing her away.

“Knock it off, Star. Come on, you’re blocking my view of the TV.”

With a knowing smirk, Mabel settled back down on the floor. Bill rested his head back on his pillow, squashing Ser Jimsworth into his aching stomach.

_Don’t you like it when people are scared of you?_

He stared at the back of Mabel’s head.

She wasn’t scared of him either.

_I think I like that better._

…

It was almost 6 AM and Bill realized he needed to use the bathroom.

_Fantastic. I think I was just about to fall asleep, too._

It was a lie, but he felt better telling it to himself.

Careful not to wake the twins, Bill rose to his feet, stretching out all his limbs and yawning. His feet were still painfully sore, but he could now walk on them without a problem. Scratching his face, he made his way to the restroom, nearly tripping twice and stubbing his toe on the doorway.  _Thanks, thank you for that_ , he thought, tears in his eyes and biting back several curses.

After relieving himself, he stepped in front of the sink and began washing his hands, muttering under his breath. When he looked up at himself in the mirror, he winced. His skin had paled and deep shadows had appeared under his eyes. Why did getting a good night’s rest have to be such a challenge? With a sigh, he splashed himself with cool water. As he scrubbed his face, however, he realized something with a flash.

His eyepatch. It was gone.

With a groan, he realized it must have been torn off somewhere in the underground lab during his and Ford’s struggle. He’d have to go down there if he wanted it back, and he really wanted it back, but he also  _really_ didn’t want to go back down there.  _Ford probably isn’t there now, right? He moved into Mabel’s room. I would have seen him if he left._

The thought reassured him and gave him some courage. He left the bathroom and made for the gift shop, shuddering as his bandaged feet made contact with the chilled tile floor. The vending machine was still open, much to his relief.

The hallway was a lot smaller than he remembered. As he approached the elevator, the sight of the keypad made him grunt with annoyance. There was a time where he used to know the code, but that was thirty years ago, and Ford probably changed the code five times today alone. He smashed the buttons out of frustration and then tried pulling the elevator doors apart. They wouldn’t budge; his arms were worthless.

 _I’ll just ask Pine Tree to get it for me later_ , he thought tiredly, rubbing his eye and yawning again. He turned around, intending to shuffle back to the couch and make another attempt at sleep. When he looked up, he saw Ford standing at the end of the hallway.

Bill gasped and jerked backward, running into the elevator doors. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t think through the spike of adrenaline clogging his head telling him to _run_. Ford hadn’t moved, staring at him with a steely gaze with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“I’ll scream,” he heard himself say.

Ford twisted his lips into a smirk. “I know.”

Bill dragged his tongue across dry lips, swallowing. Ford still didn’t move. “Well? What do you want?”

“That should be obvious,” Ford said with a raised brow, and Bill  _hated_ how composed he looked. “I want to know what you’re planning, and what it has to do with my kids.”

At that, Bill huffed, rolling his eyes. His annoyance drained away some of his paralyzing fear, and he was able to unstick himself from the elevator. “Get over yourself. I’m not planning anything. Well, not anymore, anyway.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe you? With my family on the line?” Ford let out a harsh chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re smarter than that, Bill.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, Sixer, but your  _family_  is on my side. And for the record, I’m not actually all that smart! I’m actually pretty damn stupid; it’s how I got into this flesh bag in the first place.”

“You are much more vulnerable now,” Ford mused, eyes trailing his body from head to toe. Bill knew he must be thinking of the other binding marks. A chill ran down his spine.

“S-see? I wouldn’t submit myself to this unless I was being genuine, right? I’m just a guy who made a lot of mistakes and trying to mind his own business. Dipper and Mabel are my  _friends_  now.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. “I thought I was your friend once too, Bill, and it was the worst mistake of my life." The words cut through him like a serrated knife. "Do you  _really_  think my niece and nephew would be so inclined to call you their friend if they knew what I knew? If they knew what you tried to unleash on the world?”

Bill swallowed, unable to summon a retort. It was a truth he couldn't deny. He had taken advantage of Ford in his loneliness to construct a device that would have enabled the destruction of his dimension. The memory of that time was distant and foggy, but he still remembered when Ford had figured out his plans and betrayal and how he subsequently descended into insanity. He remembered how amused he was.

It felt like he was watching a movie of somebody else’s life. A life of an entity who’s sociopathy reached an apocalyptic extent.

_But … they would understand, right? They wouldn’t change their minds just because Ford told them everything … right?_

“I …” He gulped. “I’m different now, okay? I’m not just some destructive tornado bent on taking over the world. I’ve been with Dipper and Mabel for a long time now and—”

“You are a  _demon_ , Bill,” Ford said with disgust.

“I  _care_ about them.” Bill was almost yelling now. “And they care about  _me_. They’re patient, they help me when I’m confused or scared, and they could have thrown me out a million times and left me to the wolves, but they  _didn’t._ ” A balloon-like feeling was expanding in his chest; he felt like he was about to explode in his anger. Mabel’s words came back to him. “I’m not about to let  _you_ define what I can or can’t be, Ford, because you know what? You  _don’t_ know me as well as you think you do. I’m not a demon anymore. I  _can’t_ be a demon anymore.” He took a shallow breath. It felt like he was telling that to himself as much as he was telling it to Ford. “That’s the price I paid. Now I have to be a person. I’m not the best at it, but I’m getting better every day, and I’m going to keep trying to be a better person because  _they_ believe in me and I owe them  _everything_.”

Bill was breathing heavily, feeling as if the words had been ripped out of his throat. Ford had yet to react, staring at Bill with that same impassive expression. It pissed him off, and he opened his mouth, but then Ford turned around. He didn’t say anything as he walked up the stairs and left the hallway. He might as well have never been there at all. For all Bill knew he had been yelling at nothing this whole time. Another hallucination brought on by insomnia.

Grumbling under his breath, Bill rubbed his eye and he walked back down the hallway, too agitated to even consider sleeping now. He didn’t even realize how desperate he had been to prove himself until he screamed those words to Ford. And dammit, he  _was_ going to prove it, prove that he cared about the twins, prove that he was more than an evil, selfish demon with a secret plan. 

_Birthday. It’s their birthday tomorrow._

That settled it.

He was going to prove himself. He was going to prove he cared about them. Then nobody could doubt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I think one of the most tragic things about DBC is that, due to Weirdmaggedon never taking place, Ford and Stan were never able to completely repair their relationship. It was eventually able to simmer; Dipper and Mabel convinced Ford to let Stan keep the Shack and other small things helped, like Christmas and Thanksgiving and the twins' graduation. Things where they both wanted to be there for the twins which kind of brought them back together. But they will never act like brothers again. And that makes me sad.
> 
> Special mentions!
> 
> [[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/140973812702/bill-vs-the-bee-some-more-fanart-for-defining) Chapter 12, Bill v. Bee Part 1. Dipper's expression is _priceless_.
> 
> [[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/140980550277/bill-vs-the-bee-ft-dipper-i-told-you-so-pines-part) Chapter 12, Bill v. Bee Part 2. Bill's body language speaks of pain and misery, and that's just fantastic. Excellent posing!
> 
> [[deerdentist]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/140990485188/gosh-hes-so-scrawny-get-a-fucking-grip-dipper) Chapter 12, the changing room debacle. Look at this stringbean. It's amazing. And the fRecKLES, GAAH~!
> 
> [[komaida]](http://8tracks.com/komaida/bill-cipher-the-weak-and-powerless) A Defining Bill Cipher playlist! It was such a pleasure to find this, and with so many great songs~ :D
> 
> [[nerdsteak]](http://nerdsteak.tumblr.com/post/141412286662/i-wanted-to-try-and-learn-how-to-paint-better-so) A drawing of Bill. This is beautiful detail and shading; Bill's facial structure in particular really interests me. You can really see the influence from their model.
> 
> [[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/140945218708/cant-stop-wont-stop-oh-my-god-this-is-so) Chapter 12, various scenes. I can barely describe just how cute this is without trailing off in a mess of words. Needless to say, it's really freaking cute. Somebody get this puppy dog those headphones.
> 
> [[superstes-infernum]](http://superstes-infernum.tumblr.com/post/140981370411/precious-little-noodle-3) Chapter 12, Bill taking a selfie. This is so adorable! I like the way they drew Bill's hair and the coloring on it. Magnifique!
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	14. Bill Cipher, the Adopted Pines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are exposed on the twin’s birthday as Bill’s humanity is questioned.

The sun was still barely peeking over the horizon when Bill returned to the living room. Ford was nowhere to be found and the twins were fast asleep.  _Good_. He crept towards Dipper’s bedroom. If memory served, that was where Stanley Pines had chosen to shack up.

It proved impossible to inch his way into the room without the door creaking, but at least it was light enough that there was no risk of stubbing his toe again. When he spotted Stan sleeping in his bed, snoring loudly, he frowned with disgust. That was  _his_ bed, dammit, even if it was technically Dipper’s bed. Stan was getting his sweat and stink ingrained in the sheets! And he was  _drooling_ , too. 

He would have to burn those sheets if he ever wanted to sleep soundly again. _Uuugh!_

But this wasn’t the time to be squeamish. Picking up a pencil on the nightstand, he none-too-gently poked Stan’s flabby arm. Stan grunted in his sleep, swatting at him before turning on his side.

“… money’s in the shoe … don’t think you can take my dolphin mug…” His snoring increased in volume. Huffing, Bill poked him again, this time in the neck. No reaction.  _Wake up, you saggy lump of meat!_ Swallowing his disgust, he discarded the pencil and shoved the man as hard as he could. It resulted in a gentle jostle. Stan snorted and abruptly sat up with a snort.

“I already  _told_ ya, I wasn’t the one that—” His eyes made contact with Bill and he snapped his mouth shut. It seemed to take him a second to recognize him, but once he did, he groaned and began rubbing his eyelids. “Kid, only birds and people with dogs are supposed to be up this early. What do you want?”

“I need a ride to the mall.”

Stan yawned, and Bill bristled as he settled back down in the sheets. “Well, I’m sure it can wait. Try again at a decent hour.”

“I can pay you,” he said quickly, holding out his wallet.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you can, whatever,” Stan mumbled, placing his head back on the pillow.

Bill groaned with frustration. “We need to go  _now_ , you …  _you—_!” His mind was so fried he couldn’t think up a proper insult before Stan groaned and straightened up again, holding up his hand.

“ _Okay_ , okay, don’t give yourself a headache, kid. What the hell is this all about?” he asked, an eyebrow drawn up.

“I—” Bill bit back an annoyed sigh. They didn’t have time for stupid questions. “Their birthday is today, right? I want to go out and buy something before tonight.”

Stan’s other eyebrow joined the first. Bill had to force himself not to fidget. Then, Stan let out a noise and slightly shook his head. Leaning over, he grabbed his glasses from the nightstand. “You’re kind of cutting it close there, aren’t you, kid?” Bill opened his wallet but paused when Stan held up a hand. “Relax, sheesh. Even I know a charity case when I see it.”

Bill scrunched his nose but pocketed his wallet regardless. He was forced to wait as Stan shifted onto his feet, groaning and cursing and cracking about several thousand joints along the way. How could one human produce so many horrifying noises? Was he dying?

Eventually, Stan was able to stand on his two feet, taking a moment to pop a few more joints in his back.

“You done?” he asked. “At this rate, we’ll be able to get to the mall by the time the sun goes supernova.”

“Hey, where’s your respect for the elderly, huh?”

“Just hurry up, okay?”

“I’m  _going_ , I’m going.”

Bill exited the bedroom, parking himself in the hallway near the back door as Stan finished getting ready. He just barely resisted the urge to knock his head against the wall. The last thing he needed right now was a headache. What he  _really_ needed was some caffeine, but he didn’t know how to work the coffee pot and the tea kettle was too complicated. He wasn’t about to wake the twins to help him either.

 _Guess it’s just going to be one of those days,_ he thought, rubbing his itching eyes.But he’d be fine if they could just start  _moving_ and what the  _hell_ was taking that old man so long?

When Stan eventually emerged, Bill had fallen half asleep leaned up against the wall. He roused with a snort when Stan patted his shoulder. The smell of cologne was overwhelming.

“Ready when you are, small fry.”

“R-right,” he said, trying to discretely rub his eyes. He smothered a yawn as he led the two of them to the back door. He spotted the twins as he passed the living room, still slumbering against the couch. They wouldn’t wake up and be worried that he wasn’t there, right?

_Still … doesn’t seem right to disappear on them._

“Hold on a sec,” he said in hushed tones. Bill ran back into the hallway and into Dipper’s room, leaving an incredulous Stan behind. When he returned, Stan was shaking his head.

“You’ve been practically hitting me with a cattle prod to get out of here, kid, and now you’re holding us up?”

Bill held up a post-it note and a pencil. “Keep your pants on, it’s not like  _you_ have anywhere to be.”

“First of all, if I want to take my pants off, I will. Second,  _you’re_ the one who wants to run this operation. I was having a perfectly good dream until you woke me up. You’re really testing my generosity here.”

Bill remained silent, scribbling a quick note onto the sticky. Stan was grumbling under his breath, visibly annoyed. Bill sighed through his nose.  _Stupid. He’s your only ride. Stupid, stupid._  “S-sor … I’m sorry. I’m … not really at my best right now.”

Stan snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet.” For a moment, he glanced down at Bill’s feet and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Did my brother really pour acid on your feet?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”  _Wouldn’t have stopped at just the feet_ ,  _either,_  he thought to himself.

“Sheesh. You gonna be alright running around on those?”

Bill took a second to consider the question. Yes, the insteps of his feet were still brutally sore and achy. It was doubtful that he’d be able to walk for long without aggravating it. But it didn’t matter anyway. He needed to get this done. He could handle some sore feet, right?

Walking over, he stuck the note onto Dipper’s forehead. “I’ll be fine,” he said, returning to the hallway.

“Mmhmm.” Stan let Bill lead him out of the hallway towards the back door. “You know, I always knew my brother was nuts, but this …?”

Bill huffed, reflecting on the conversation he and Ford had in the vending machine hallway. “He … he had his reasons. Which is why we need to hurry, so if you ever feel like picking up the pace …” Stan glared at him.“Sorry.”

As they entered the foyer, the sound of clinking dishes drew Bill’s ear and he turned his head. He spotted Ford, standing frozen in the kitchen with a coffee mug drawn to his lips, eyebrows slowly rising. Bill froze, heartbeat spiking.

“Sup, Sixer.” Stan drew up next to Bill, distracted as he fished around in his pockets for his car keys. Slowly, Ford lowered the mug, erasing the surprise from his face.

“Good morning, Stanley,” he said, taking his seat at the kitchen table. A newspaper was spread out in front of him, along with a plate of toast. When he looked back up, he stared directly at Stan. Bill's lungs loosened a bit. “Where are you off to this early?”

“The kid here has a mission from God or something; practically kicked me out of bed so he can have a ride to the mall.”

“I see.” Ford narrowed his eyes, seeming briefly conflicted about something. Then, he returned his attention to his newspaper. “Drive safely,” he said tersely. “I’ll take care of picking up the cake later.”

“Thanks, old timer. The order number’s 72.”

“Understood.”

Stan continued towards the door and the exchange was suddenly over. Bill didn’t have to say a word or try to defend himself against Ford. Breathing a sigh of relief, he quickly put on his sandals before following Stan outside. The morning air was muggy; he had already begun to sweat.

Stan pulled onto the dirt road and into the highway, tuning the radio to a station where two voices were arguing about local politics. “ _Mayor Cutebiker’s policy to regulate the free reign of turkeys is outlandish! First turkeys, then what? Soon, the police will be at my doorstep telling me I can’t go pick up my groceries!_ ”

 _Sounds like a serious problem_ , Bill thought to himself, settling against the car window. Getting out of the house has renewed his previous vigor, and with it, his impatience returned. He stared out the window, chewing his nails and fidgeting his leg so hard the car wobbled as they waited at stoplights. He just wanted to be at the mall already, hunting down the perfect gift that would dazzle the twins and stick it to Ford’s face.

As they neared the mall, a light went off in his mind and his heart stopped beating.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, bunching his hair in a fist. “I forgot my eyepatch!”

“Eyepatch? What?” Stan looked over to find Bill cupping his eye and beating his head against the window. “You mean that thing ain’t just for show or something?”

“ _No_. It’s … I have a condition, okay? I can’t let people see me without it.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Bill made a noise of frustration, and then turned towards Stan, splitting his fingers over his left eye. “ _See?_  If a human sees this they’ll drown me or stone me or something. We have to go back.”

“What, is your eyeball missing or something? Is that all?” Bill clenched his jaw at the answer, and Stan threw his head back in laughter. “Kid, this is Gravity Falls. People see weird things all the time, even if they don’t like to admit it. You’re not about to be skinned for something like that.”

“Humans are always panicking over anomalies like this.”

“Look, I didn’t say people wouldn’t think it’s weird, but it’s not like your life is on the line or anything.”

Bill sighed. It wasn’t like he could get his eyepatch from the lab anyway. The twins would probably be up by the time they got back, too.  _Fine. Maybe I can actually make it one day without being brutally assaulted._

The exited the car and approached the mall, Bill feeling less and less energized with every step he took.

He wished he had grabbed some coffee.

…

Dipper woke up with a snort and a painful knot in his neck. Groaning, he sat up, massaging the base of his shoulder and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. There was a peculiar sensation on his forehead and he lifted his hand. A post-it note? He ripped it off and looked over his shoulder. Bill was gone.

Dipper looked at the post-it note and let out a small sigh of relief when he recognized Bill’s chicken scratch handwriting. _Haven’t been kidnapped and am not dead. Don’t worry about me. Will be back with the old guy soon._ That’s what he thought it said, anyway. Bill may be the only person in the universe with worse handwriting than Dipper.

Mabel made a noise in her sleep and when Dipper turned to look at her, she was slowly blinking awake, making an ugly, irritated expression. She turned towards the couch and her eyes widened with alarm, but Dipper handed over the sticky note before she could say anything. Her eyes flitted across the page and she deflated with a sigh. “Is he talking about Grunkle Stan?” she asked, rubbing her eye and yawning.

Dipper shrugged. Why Bill would be anywhere with their abrasive great uncle at the moment was beyond him, but so long as he was safe it didn’t really matter. _Maybe I should call him just to make sure everything was alright. …no. No, I’m sure he’s fine._

The smell of bacon and eggs encased the room. Something was sizzling in the kitchen. Together they rose to their feet and shuffled into the foyer. They were greeted by the sight of Ford standing in front of the stove, poking at a slightly charred pancake with a spatula.

Dipper blinked. “Um … Good morning, great uncle Ford.”

Ford made a noise as if waking up and turned towards them. “Oh, um, good morning, kids. Breakfast will be in a little while, so if you wanted to wash up …”

Dipper shared a look with his sister. Her lips were tightened in a familiar way. Clearly, she had yet to let go of yesterday’s anger. Dipper found that most of his fury have been dulled by exhaustion and melancholy. When Ford mentioned washing up, the grimy feeling that came with morning breath and sleeping in yesterday’s clothes snuck up on him. Cleaning up sounded great.

The twins left Ford in the kitchen to perform their morning rituals. As Dipper changed his clothes and brushed his teeth, it dawned on him that he had been coated head to toe in glitter since yesterday.  _You’re kidding me …_ He’d be finding glitter all over his body for weeks. It was amazing Ford had taken him seriously at all.

He returned to the kitchen, taking his seat. It wasn’t long before Mabel joined him, still quiet. Ford continued with breakfast. The silence was filled by the sizzling stove and occasional breaths and fidgets. Dipper couldn’t remember living through a silence so tense and awkward.

Hewished Bill were here. He had a knack for always speaking up at inappropriate times.

“Order up,” Ford said.

He passed out the plates and served the two of them their meals, not taking any food for himself. Mabel mumbled a quiet “thank you” as she spread some ketchup on her eggs. Dipper nodded, grunting as he ate a piece of his pancakes. 

Even with their food and Ford joining them at the table, the silence persisted and it bordered on excruciating. But what could hesay?  _Great Uncle Ford, I’m sorry we never told you that we invited your arch nemesis into your home, but he’s our friend now, and I’ve actually been having some ridiculous gay thoughts about him lately so maybe you could—_ Dipper groaned into his mug. Somebody needed to speak up before he lost his mind.

Thankfully, as they were about finished with their food, Ford cleared his throat.

“So, uh … how was the food?”

Dipper frowned, resisting the urge to glance briefly at his sister. “Um … fine, yeah. The pancakes were, uh, a little crunchy, I guess.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

“No, they were pretty good.”

“Oh. That’s … good to hear.”

Dipper coughed, stabbing the last of his pancakes. Ford stared into his coffee cup as if he were studying it. Mabel was chewing on the tip of her bacon, frowning. The silence had returned.

_Christ!_

Finally, Ford bit the bullet.

“Well, this hadn’t worked out quite like I had hoped,” he said with a slight, sad chuckle. He released a deep breathed. “Kids, we need to talk. About Bill.”

Dipper sighed. Of course they needed to talk about Bill, but he still didn’t want to. Besides him, Mabel straightened up.

“First, I would like to apologize to you both.” Dipper’s eyebrows went up. “My actions against Bill were, admittedly, too hasty considering how little I knew of the circumstances. I have come to recognize that this …” Ford’s lips tightened, “… situation with Bill is your business and your responsibility. I'll be staying out of it from now on unless you specifically ask for my help.”

A quick glance at his sister revealed that she looked as, if not more, surprised than he did. She blinked rapidly, and said, “O-oh. Um, thank you, Ford.” She then narrowed her eyes. “But it’s not us you need to apologize to.”

The change in Ford’s expression was almost imperceptible, but Dipper still caught the hardening of his features. “I recognize that this is mostly my fault. You’ve never known what Bill was capable of. I never told you two the full extent of my history with Bill.”

 _No … he never did …_ Dipper slanted his eyes downwards, leaning forward despite himself, intrigued. But then Mabel made a frustrated noise. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters because it all happened in the past. You’re talking about an entirely different Bill.”

Ford’s expression became even sterner. “Mabel, you need to take this seriously. You have no idea what could be coming for you. You’re still in very real danger.”

Dipper could feel Mabel’s anger and frustration, but to his surprise, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she slumped in her chair and crossed her arms. Ford settled down as well, readjusting his glasses so that they hid his eyes.

He told them his story.

When he finished, the twins sat there in silence.

Research partners.

_Friends._

Dipper curled deeper and deeper in on himself, feeling like a sap and a fool.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said quietly. She was frowning, her eyes sad. “It was a horrible thing.”

“It destroyed me,” Ford said with a wearied sigh. “I became paranoid. It felt like at any moment I was being watched. I had nightmares about that burning dimension, what could have been our dimension. I installed a metal plate into my head just so I can think without fearing he’d be there …” He trailed off, eyes clouding over. Bringing his hand up, he massaged his eyelids, and when he lowered it his expression was more composed. “The Rift has been relocated to a much safer location, but you have to consider the possibility that Bill is still planning something against you.”

“Ford …” Dipper tried weakly, but it was pointless.

“Grunkle Ford,  _please_ ,” Mabel said. “I know you’re just looking out for us, but the circumstances are completely different.”

“But you  _don’t_ know. You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen—”

“And you haven’t seen the things  _we’ve_ seen, okay? Bill is already a thousand times different than when he first got that body. When Bill was a demon, he didn’t know the first thing about how human emotion worked, and to say he’s just a really good actor or something is  _ridiculo—_ ”

“But where is the  _proof?_ ” Ford snapped, and Mabel’s jaw clapped shut.“Where is the  _tangible evidence_ that he’s changed like you say?”

“I already told you, he saved Dipper in the woods—”

“Yes? And? There’s nothing to suggest it was a matter of altruism. Bill could need Dipper alive for something and accidentally got caught. Maybe he orchestrated the entire event in order for you to be biased in his favor like this.”

Mabel’s face was reddening. “You’re saying Bill summoned a bunch of  _werewolves_  to bite his throat out on  _purpose?_ ”

“I’m saying we don’t know the full extent of Bill’s abilities or the lengths he’s willing to go to achieve his ends.”

“W-what about when we were captured by those mermaids?”

Ford blinked. “Mermaids?”

Mabel turned to Dipper. “Bro, you remember right? How terrified he was when we were gone?” She said to Ford, “He had himself choked out so he could use his power to try to find us.”

Ford took a moment to respond, clearly having been caught off guard. “The same logic still applies. His plan could require both of you being alive. If you would stop being so stubborn about it, you would see—”

Mabel rose to her feet and slammed her hands on the table, causing Ford to flinch back. “The  _reason_  I’m being so stubborn about itis because you tried to  _murder_ our friend yesterday, Ford. It wasn’t enough to try and kill him, you wanted to tear his soul apart and throw him in purgatory. Yeah,” she said when Ford blanched. “Didn’t think I overhead that, huh? That’s  _evil_. Bill had done  _nothing_ to deserve what you did since getting that body and I’m not going to let you hurt him again _._ ”

“I worked with Bill for  _years!_ ” Ford said, matching Mabel’s tone. “I  _worshiped_  him. He gave me everything I wanted: knowledge, assurance,  _friendship._ It was  _a lie._ He wanted me to give him a way into our world so he could do to it what he did to his own. Maybe it's different now, but if you keep acting like that's a 100% certainty, you're endangering yourself and everyone around you.”

“The only person I see endangering anyone here is  _you_.”

“Do you even know  _why_ Bill chose to become human at all?”

That stopped Mabel in her tracks. Her expression stilled and then became more and more stunned as she couldn’t give a confident answer.

“He … he said he was in danger—”

“But  _what_? Why is he at risk? What is pursuing him? Is he putting  _you_ at risk by choosing to be here?”

 _No_ , Dipper’s mind answer, but his mouth wouldn’t move.  _That was the deal. We help him get his body, we give him shelter, as long as he doesn’t put us in danger. That was the deal._

But they had made that deal when Bill was still a demon. When had his word been good for anything …?

A punch to his shoulder woke Dipper from his reverie. He looked up at Mabel, feeling like he was about to be sick.

“Back me up,” she said

He wanted to look away, but his sister’s furious gaze held him. “I … M-Mabel …” He was able to tear himself away, only to be trapped by the burning stare of his great uncle. He tightened his fingers around his mug, fixing his eyes on his cold tea. “Ford shouldn’t have done what he did, but … h-he has way more experience with Bill.”

“But it’s a  _different Bill_. You  _know_ it’s different, Dipper.”

He did know. He could feel it deep in his gut, a voice that agreed with Mabel. But … something in his head was telling him something else.  _Trust No One._  Listening to Ford’s story had shaken him. He needed time to think. “H-he’s just trying to be rational, Mabel—”

“You said he was your  _friend_.”

“I’m saying  _I don’t know_ Mabel!” Dipper was on his feet now, his voice rising. He stared into his sister’s shocked face. “Younever had to deal with Bill back when he was a demon, but he’s  _clever,_ okay? He knew exactly what to say to get me to do what he wanted, and I fell for it like an idiot. He’s not a demon anymore, but what if … what if we are just some part of a long con?”

Mabel was silent, but whether it was because she had nothing to say or she was just that angry, he couldn’t tell. Dipper took a long, steadying breath.

“I’m not like you, Mabel. I can’t go with my gut instinct. We have to be prepared for …” He stopped. Yes, he was just being  _logical_ , but it still felt like a betrayal to say it.

_But what if that’s what Bill wanted me to feel?_

God, he  _hated_ feeling so uncertain.

Mabel still looked angry, but another emotion blunted her expression a bit. Before he could say anything, she left the kitchen with a huff, storming through the living room. He could hear her footsteps all the way to the other side of the house, where a door slammed.

He could imagine Bill standing there, staring at him with a wide, distressed blue eye.

Dragging a hand across his face, he groaned. A headache had sprung between his eyes. At the other end of the table, Ford had yet to speak.

“Thank you for breakfast,” Dipper mumbled.

“It’s no problem.” Ford seemed to want to continue but looked conflicted. Then, he said, “You’re right to be cautious, Dipper. All I’m asking is that you keep a close eye on him. Don’t make the same mistakes I made.”

_'He gave me everything I wanted: knowledge, assurance, friendship. It was a lie._

_It_ destroyed  _me.'_

He thought back to the beach house, on that last night, while he and Bill were alone on deck.

_'Everything feels so different from before. I’ve always had perfect control over what I thought and how I acted, but ever since getting this body, that’s changed.'_

Dipper released a haggard sigh, Ford’s switchblade feeling heavy in his pocket. He left the kitchen without another word, feeling like his head was about to burst. He needed someplace he could think things through alone.

…

“Okay, you sack of skin, listen up, because I’m about to cut you a premium deal. See this shirt here?” Bill held up the gray, graphic t-shirt to the bleary-eyed cashier with one hand. “ _You_  give this to me, let me walk out of this consumerist hellscape, and  _I_ will tell you the exact date and cause of your death. Deal?”

“And how would I know you’re even telling the truth?” the cashier asked in a sleepy monotone.

“Go on, test me! Ask me anything about your life, and I’ll know it, uh,” Bill quickly glanced down at his tag, “Daniel Fffffhhh,” he snapped his fingers, trying to jog his memory. “Foster?  _No_ , Fisher!”

The cashier seemed less amazed than Bill had hoped. His eyes seemed dead.  _Is this another demon’s thrall?_  “How do I know you’re not some stalker?”

“Why the hell would I want to stalk some crusty cashier from a novelty store?”

“First of all, rude. I’m a catch,” he said, not altering his inflection in the slightest. “Second of all, what the hell’s wrong with your eye? Do you have an infection or something?”

Bill cringed, swiping his hand away from his eye, although he still kept it closed. “Y- _yes_. I have a horrible, debilitating disease which I’ll give to  _you_ if you don’t give me this shirt right now.”

“Okay, I’m calling security.” He made a slow gesturing motion with his hand and when Bill turned around a beefy woman in a uniform was walking towards them. Bill groaned with frustration, tossing the shirt on the counter.

“I’m leaving,  _I’m leaving_ ,” he said, holding up his hands as he walked out of the store. A thought struck him and he turned back to yell, “You'll die of a heart attack at 51 years old on July 8th at 2:04pm, before takeoff on a flight to see your family. There was nothing you could have done to prevent it!”

“I’m sure I will.”

Bill made a vicious snort and scurried out of the store, grumbling to himself. He knew that was just a vindictive lie. Chances are, that cashier dies at 87 while being prepped for a kidney transplant.  _That heart attack will happen but it's mild and he'll most likely survive._ The memory came back to him with such resounding clarity that he stood in place for a moment.

 _… why is it that I can remember the potential death of this clown when I can’t even remember the location of the emergency candy stash I made last week?_ He shook his head and sighed, tucking his hands into his hoodie and resuming his walk.  _Life is so unfair._

He ran into Stan outside the store. The old man had just returned from a trip to the vending machine and was sipping on some Pitt Cola.

“How’s the hunting, squirt?”

The question seemed unnecessary, as Bill was sure the answer was written all over his face, but he was still compelled to say, “Not good. Whatever, it was a dumb shirt anyway.” It was, in fact, a very nice graphic t-shirt for that one series of science fantasy movies Dipper loved so much.  _Tales from the Outer Reach._ Whatever. Dipper had tons of shirts. It’s not like it was a good present anyway. It didn’t say all the things Bill wanted it to say.

He groaned, pinching his nose. “Why does everything have to be so expensive? Doesn’t anyone know that the Bilderberg Group decides everyone’s rates of inflation with a limbo tournament every year? Why does everyone listen to those guys? What happened to stashing gold?”

“You saying you have a stash of gold somewhere?”

“… no. But it still makes more sense!” And it made him feel better to complain about something.

“How much cash do you have on you anyway?”

Bill frowned deeply, bowing his head and looking away. “…mmmboutfhvedllrs…”

“You have marbles in your mouth or something?” Stan asked, bringing the can to his lips.

Bill tensed up, heat rising in his face. He gulped, and said more slowly, “I have … about five dollars.”

Stan lowered the can, creasing his brow and crinkling his nose. “Are you serious?” Bill didn’t answer. Stan shook his head, chuckling incredulously. “Kid, you’re playing a losing game here, you know that?”

“Who asked you?” Bill snapped, throwing up his hands. He sneered and then stormed off. “And stop calling me ‘kid’,” he said when Stan followed him. “I’m over a trillion years older than you.”

“Yeah well, you  _look_  like you’re about sixteen years old. Seventeen?” Bill shot him a dry glare.  “No, fourteen. Yeah, that’s my final answer.”

 _At least I’m not a wrinkled bag of bones that needs to pee every five minutes_ , he thought, but he kept that to himself. He’s pushed his luck far enough with the old man.

But that wasn’t what was important right now. What was important was that he was consumed with the desire to shower the twins in gold while only having five dollars in his wallet. All of the money he had last week went into buying that taxidermy foal from that Korean girl’s ( _Bonbon? Sweetmeat?_ He couldn’t remember her name) pawn shop, a purchase he now regretted intensely.

His frustration was growing, almost choking him, and he hid his face in his hands. “Their birthday is  _tonight_. I can’t show up empty-handed …”

“Right now, you couldn’t even afford candy bars for the both of them.” Stan drew up next to him, still unconcernedly sipping his drink. “You’re already cutting it close, kid. Why do this now anyway? Is it because of my brother?”

Bill tried organizing everything in his head.  _Yes. I want to stick it in Ford’s dumb face that he’s not right about everything._ But that answer didn’t sit well with him. There were better ways of getting revenge than this. He sighed. “No. Not really. I just … I did bad things in the past. I want the twins to know that …” He trailed off, not quite sure where he was going.

‘ _Do you really think my niece and nephew would be so inclined to call you their friend if they knew what I knew? If they knew what you tried to unleash on the world?_ ’

God, what could Ford be telling them right now? What would they think? If he went home, what would he see in their faces?

He  _couldn’t_ go back empty handed.

“Hmm. Insightful,” said Stan and Bill rolled his eyes at the sarcasm. He flinched when a hand clapped onto his shoulder. “Sorry, Bill, but this isn't working. You've resorted to haggling with cashiers. I've been there. Never works, and it's usually a sign of a bigger problem. You need a break. We're going somewhere.”  
  
“What? Where?” Bill’s eyebrows shot up and he turned towards him. “What about my gift?”

“We’re going to the same place I go to escape my problems. Don’t worry, we'll deal with the gift thing later.” Stan removed his hand and then began making his way towards the mall’s exit. Bill twisted his mouth. Stan was his ride and wherever he went, Bill was forced to follow.

That didn’t mean Bill couldn’t bitterly complain about it, which he did under his breath during the walk to the car.

“This better be worth it, Fez,” he grumbled as he pulled his seatbelt on.

“Trust me, it will be.”

Neither of them spoke during the drive. The local news station continued blaring its absurdity, but Bill tuned it out, staring at the passing scenery. He was suffering a mix of dulled panic and anxiety yet also strange tranquility. Perhaps Stan had a point, maybe it would be better to take a step back and think about his next move some more.

_Meanwhile, Ford is filling the twins’ heads with horror stories and they might want to throw you out or kill you by the time you get back because, hell, any sane person wouldn’t want to deal with you after knowing all that._

Bill took a deep breath and rested his forehead on the cool window, closing his eyes.  _They’re not going to abandon you, they’re not going to abandon you, they’re not going to abandon you._

Stan parked the car in a lot near the center of town and led him down the street. There were a few other people out on the sidewalk today, some of whom recognized Stan and engaged him in conversation. Bill clenched his teeth together as he was forced to stop and listen to the inane chatter. He kept his hand firmly over his left eye.

“Don’t we have somewhere to be?” Bill asked after they were stopped for a third time, this time by an old woman.  _Lazy Susan_. “You said this was important.”

“Don’t mind him,” Stan said, ruffling his hair. Bill smacked his hand away.

“Hey, you’re that new guy working at the Mystery Shack,” said Susan. “You know, I never did get that refund from my broken bobble head back.”

“Take it up with the complaints department, lady,” Bill snapped, and Stan laughed, continuing his conversation with the old hag much to Bill’s distress. He was already regretting not putting up more of a fight to this idea.

Finally, they reached their destination. A smelly, run down dive called  _The Skull Crusher_. Bill recognized it from the few times he drove through town with the twins. A young, gangly man was stationed out front, likely guarding the door.

“You got any ID, kid?” Stan asked.

“What? An ID? Why would someone like me have an ID?”

“Hey, I don’t know your life. You got anything?”

“I don’t know. To quote Pine Tree, ‘I don’t exist in the eyes of the government.’ Back when I was in the hospital, Shooting Star said they used their insurance to cover me.”

Stan laughed. “That’s my girl.” He then turned back to the bouncer, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Okay, kid, I have an idea. Just follow my lead.”

Bill tightened his jaw as Stan swaggered towards the door. What were the odds this plan would end with them getting arrested? Probably low, right? He followed Stan onto the sidewalk.

Stan approached the bouncer with a cheesy grin. “Afternoon, short stack.”

The young man smiled. “Good afternoon, sir. You can go right in, but I’ll need some ID from your friend.”

Bill huffed, looking sideways for whatever signal Stan planned on sending. Stan didn’t even look his way, keeping his eyes on the bouncer.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, this kid’s my seeing-eye person,” he said with the same grin. Bill could barely hold back a disbelieving snort, but thankfully the bouncer beat him to the punch.

“That’s very funny, sir,” he said, chuckling, “but I’m afraid I’m going to ha—”

“That’s funny to you?” Stan said, his tone ice cold. The bouncer froze, glancing from Stan to Bill and back. Bill struggled to keep his expression disciplined. “My ailments are funny to you, punk?”

“N-no, sir, I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Look, string bean. I’ve got cataracts in my eyes that’ll make a spider’s nest look pleasant.” Stan’s voice was climbing in pitch and the bouncer’s face became whiter and whiter. “I’m not even allowed to leave my home without this brat by my elbow ‘cause I might just walk into the woods or get hit by a truck on the way to get my groceries.”

“It’s true,” Bill said. “One time I turned my back on him for a second and found him upside down in the toilet. I’m not gonna be making that mistake again, thank you very much.”

Stan turned towards him and slyly winked. “You see?”

“S-sirs, please. I’m not supposed to—”

“You think your boss is gonna be happy when I bring in my lawyers for discriminating against an old man and his  _perfectly legal_ seeing-eye person? Huh? Do ya, sport?”

“I, um … I don’t …” The young man scratched the back of his neck, looking ragged. “I-I don’t want to cause any trouble, alright? J-just head on in.”

“Pleasure doing business with ya,” Stan said as he strolled through the open door. Bill gave the bouncer a toothy grin as he followed suite.

“Not bad, Fez,” he said once the door was closed. “A little cliché with a few of those lines, but otherwise, it was a solid performance.”

“Hey, I’ve been in retirement so I’m a little rusty. Cut me some slack.” His tone was firm but Stan was still smiling. He clapped Bill on the back. “Now to do what we came here for. Come on, kid.”

Bill followed Stan through the small building. It was relatively empty due to the time of day, which he found slightly disappointing as there was less a chance he’d get to see someone stabbed by a pool cue, but that was okay. Light jazz music was playing from the jukebox and there was a permeable scent of cigars. Stan took a seat on the plush bar stool and Bill sat next to him, swiveling about in his squeaky chair.

“What can I get for ya, old timer?” asked the grizzled bartender.

“Hmm.” Stan scratched his chin. “Just a glass of beer is fine.”

“And for you?” he said to Bill.

“Um …” The menu on the back wall was written in an incomprehensible handwriting. “Got anything watermelon flavored?”

The bartender barked out a laugh. “You want any of those frou-frou drinks, you go to the  _Madam’s Lounge_  across the street. We only serve men’s drinks here.”

 _What the hell does that even mean?_ Bill thought, sweat running down his neck.

“Come on, can’t you whip the kid up a margarita or something?” said Stan, earning a deep frown from the bartender. Eventually, he nodded, reaching under the counter to pull out his ingredients, mumbling something about ‘it not even being ladies night’.

They had their drinks the next moment and the bartender moved down the counter to attend some other business. Bill’s drink was served in a dainty glass and even had a little umbrella. He grabbed the glass by the stem and started twirling it, oddly charmed.

A thought struck him just then and he turned to Stan. “Hey, I’m not paying for this, you know.”

“Sheesh, kid, relax, it’s on me.” Stan paused to take a long gulp of his drink, resurfacing with a pleased sigh. “It’s the least I can do for what my brother did to you, after all.”

Bill sniffed his margarita. “It’s not like you had anything to do with it.”

“Pipe down and start drinking, brat. You’ll feel better when you do.”

Bill doubted that could be true, but it was worth a shot, right? He continued inspecting his drink, lapping at it with his tongue. He recoiled with a grimace. It certainly tasted better than that vodka garbage from the beach house, but that wasn’t saying much. Taking a steeling breath, he tipped his head back and gulped down the contents, able to swallow at least half of it before straitening up and smacking his lips.  _Hmmm … it actually has a nice aftertaste._

“Are you really that afraid someone’s gonna attack you for your weird eye?”

Bill flinched, removing his hand and curling it into a fist on his lap. He still wouldn’t open his eye. “I’ve been watching humanity since the beginning of your universe. It’s barely been an eye blink for me since people would get lynched for having a weird birthmark or something. I doubt you’ve changed all that much.”

Stan shrugged. “I guess, if you want to look at it that way. Just how old are you?”

“Um, hard to say, really.”  _He sure doesn’t seem to have a problem with this._  “Over a trillion years, at least.”

Stan let out a low whistle. “Yeesh, and I thought I was old. A trillion years? How did you not get bored to death?”

Bill fell quiet, trying to process such a question. It wasn’t often he thought about how long he’d been around or how much he had done. “I found ways to keep myself entertained. It kinda got out of hand a few times, actually. The insanity definitely helped. There were plenty of other dimensions to explore, too.”

“Like ours?”

He nodded. “Yup. Like yours.”

“And that’s when you met my brother.”

Bill frowned keeping his eye on his glass. “It’s not like Ford was the first human I talked to or anything. Far from it. What’s this all about, Fez?”

“What, an old man isn’t allowed to be curious?” Stan rolled his eyes and then paused to drink his beer. Bill narrowed his eyes, watching Stan’s expression for any signs of duplicity. He couldn’t find any, but then again, Stan was a very talented con man. “You’re that triangle guy from the books, right? I’ve always figured you had something to do with my brother going off the deep end.”

“Y…you did?”

“Mmhmm. Man, you should’ve seen how he wrote about you. At first, it was nothing but praise and admiration. Hell, just look at all the yous he built into the house; it’s disturbing.” Stan snorted and then frowned. “But he scratched all that out. Really violently, too. The guy was never too nice to his pens when he got passionate about something. All he wrote in on top of it was that everything he said before was fake and that no one should ever bring you back, no matter what.”

Bill’s mouth went dry and he sipped the last of his drink. He didn’t know if he was just imagining Stan’s burning gaze in the corner of his eyes.

Stan released a long sigh. “So let me tell you what I think happened. You showed up to Ford one day and stroked his ego and filled his head with nonsense about changing the world or some crap. You have him help you build this portal for whatever reason, but it’s definitely not the reason you told him it was. And it’s bad. End of the world bad, even, if my brother’s notes are anything to go by. And then Sixer figured it out and, well, the rest is history.”

Bill’s hands were shaking and he had to set down his drink. Stan turned towards him. His beer was almost gone.

“How’d I do, kid?”

“You…” Bill licked his lips. “You’re a smart guy, Stanley.” Stan laughed through his nose, chugging down the rest of his drink. Bill dared to look towards him. “You could guess all that and still wanted to help me out?”

“Hmm.” Stan placed his glass on the counter, staring up at the menu. An eternity had passed before he said, “Well, what do I see in front of me? Some scrawny kid with eyes too big for his head and a smart mouth. Some kid who my niece and nephew vouched for. I trust those kids. You did some bad things, but you know what? People can change. At the very least, you should get the chance to prove yourself.”

Bill’s eyes were hot, and Stan made a mildly exasperated expression. He looked away, rubbing his eyes with his shirt and feeling like an idiot.

“Sheesh, kid, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I know, I know, just shut up …”

“Ugh. Bartender? We’ll take another round. This kid needs it.”

The bartender regarded Bill with minor revulsion and Bill couldn’t even summon the bitterness to snap at him. His felt like his head was full of cotton candy and his limbs were made of jelly.

The bartender set the second margarita glass in front of him. Bill took the drink and gulped it down.

“Alright, kid,” Stan said, swiveling towards him. “Tell your Grunkle Stan all about it.”

Bill sniffed and then nodded.

…

At first, Dipper considered taking a long walk through the woods. He still knew all the best hiking trails like the back of his hand. Eventually, he decided against it. There might be another emergency with Bill or Ford and he didn’t want to risk not being there. He chose the next best thing; the roof.

The ladder was a little rickety but was able to hold his weight as he climbed up through the hatch. There were several new bird nests scattered around and the gutters were going to need to be cleaned out again soon. Watching his step, he walked over the crest and took his seat on the small awning, letting his legs dangle over. It seemed strangely barren without Wendy’s old beach chair and umbrella, but the breeze was still nice and the view pleasant. He wished he had thought to bring some pine cones for throwing, but he supposed it wouldn’t be much fun without someone to compete against anyway.

Dipper sighed, leaning into his hand. It was times like this where he missed Wendy something fierce. She was always able to stay cool under pressure, a trait Dipper had always greatly admired and envied. With her last year of college having started up, it’s been a few months since they’ve talked. What would she say if she were here with him?

_Oh man, Dipper. What a shit show. That Bill character seemed like an alright kid, but, well, your uncle seems to know what he’s talking about. I wish there was something more I could do to help._

_I wish there was too_ , Dipper thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He could probably call her if he really wanted to. It was the weekend so she’d probably pick up. But it was such a complicated and messy situation, it would take hours just to explain everything. Wendy didn’t need that right now.

What about Soos? Their old handyman was always offering him and his sister his special brand of unconventional wisdom. They haven’t had a chance to talk since his and Melody’s wedding last year. The newlyweds had been entirely focused on setting up their new life together in Portland. Dipper would feel awkward barging in on their lives.

 _Whoa,_   _you mean that triangle guy that invaded Stan’s head? Seemed like a shifty character, if you ask me. But it looks like things worked out between you dudes, right? I say go with your gut. Unless your gut is telling you to go with something else. Then you should probably go with that instead._

A small smile curved Dipper’s lips. Even if his old friends weren’t really here with him, thinking about them still managed to bring some manner of comfort.

Deep down in his gut, he didn’t want to heed Ford’s warning. He didn’t want to think of Bill as a ticking time bomb or his enemy. He wanted them all to be friends. But he still couldn’t shake this niggling mistrust taking root in his head.

What he wanted didn’t matter if Bill turned out to be all he feared or worse.

 _What’s wrong with taking the necessary precautions?_ a small voice asked.

_Oh, like what? Interrogating him? Putting him through the mind reading device or something?_

_Yeah, why not? If Bill has nothing to hide then he should have nothing to worry about._

Dipper gnawed at his lip, feeling his headache growing in size.  _I told Bill that we could be friends. I told him that he’s changed in big ways. I can’t … I can’t just turn against him like that. It’s not fair. That isn’t how friends treat each other._

_Do friends try and destroy other friends’ dimensions? Do you want what happened to Ford to happen to you? You’re just looking out for you and your sister, man. Don’t be stupid about this and let your emotions get in the way._

Don’t let your emotions get in the way. Keep a clear head. These were things Ford told him all the time as a kid.  _These are the skills of any great researcher_ , he said. But things like that proved to be difficult when a tempest was brewing in your skull.

Dipper jumped slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up and relaxed when it was only Mabel. The shadows  by the house were thinning out; he didn’t realize he’d already been up there for a while. She offered him a small smile. He scooted a bit to the left and she muttered a small “thank you” before taking a seat, crossing her legs. She idly was flipping through her old purple planner. Dipper could see green ink writing on the pages.

“You know,” she said, stopping on a page. “If things had been even somewhat normal today, we would have already been at  _Greasy Diner's_ for a dance party and pancakes. Then we would’ve gone to the arcade and then the lake for a picnic.”

“Sounds like an amazing day,” Dipper said. It really did. Bill had been wanting to go to the lake for ages. “Too bad the universe wanted to fuck with us instead.”

“It’s been doing that a lot lately, yeah.”

“Mmhmm.”

Mabel puffed out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. She looked as tired as he felt when she looked up at him. “Dipper, I’m really sorry for pushing you earlier, with Grunkle Ford. You’re right. I never really knew the old Bill like you guys did. I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that.”

“It’s fine, Mabel. Really. I know where you were coming from.”

“It’s just … Bill never tried to trick me or anything. So it’s not like I have any real authority on the matter.”

Dipper chuckled through his nose. “You would’ve been too smart for him anyway.”

“Dipper …” Mabel’s eyes became sad. “You know it’s not just about smarts. That’s what made him so scary. I bet you a billion jars of Mabel Syrup he would’ve gotten me just like he got you and Ford.”

“That’s a lot of jars,” Dipper said in an attempt to keep things light. It didn’t really work, though. It was hard to keep light spirits when thinking about those old encounters. “It’s weird to say it, but I’d kind of forgotten how evil he was back then. Mom wanted to send me to therapy after a really bad nightmare one time, do you remember that?”

“Yeah, I do.” She leaned back on her hands, releasing a long, wearied breath. “Bill was a terrible, manipulative, evil asshole and he would’ve kept being like that or worse if nothing had changed. We’ve alwaysknown that. And it’s not like he’s exactly a good person now, but …” She closed her eyes, curling her hands into fists. “I just feel … I feel like he’s already changed  _so_ much since all this started. Something about him is … it’s hard to explain …”

On some level, Dipper knew what she was talking about.  _He cleans up after himself now. He uses utensils all the time. He has a sweet tooth the size of a mountain and eats so much sugar a day it’s disgusting. He hates exercising. He has terrible taste in music. He likes mystery novels and spicy foods. He gets scared and sad and jealous. He cries like a baby._

But those were little things. Dumb, little things that proved nothing. That couldn’t prove whether or not everything,  _everything_ , wasn’t an act.

“Mabel.” Dipper cleared his throat when his voice cracked a bit. “Mabel, back when all this started, what made you think that we should believe Bill? What made you agree to take him in?”

Mabel hummed in thought, tilting her head back all the way. “I guess … Well, I guess I just believed him. Woman’s intuition or something. Is that sexist? Whatever. He just … seemed really desperate, is all.” She leaned forward with a haggard sigh. “I know that isn’t exactly ‘tangible evidence’, but I still believe it. I still believe he needed our help. I believe that the old Bill is long gone.”

Ford probably would’ve had a stroke if he knew that’s all the two of them went on when making Bill his body. But he still trusted Mabel’s judgment more than anyone’s. More than his own. Nothing had changed that.

“I want to believe him,” he said softly. It felt good to make this quiet admission. “I want to believe him so badly. But … I don’t want to wake up someday and find out that he … that everything we’ve been through together was a lie.”

“I know, bro.” Mabel wrapped her arm around Dipper’s shoulder, bringing them into a hug. He accepted the embrace, leaning up against her.

They stayed that way for a few minutes. Mabel’s unwavering presence brought him more comfort than anything else. It helped to settle most of the anxiety brought about by this morning. After all, there wasn’t anything he and his sister couldn’t face together, right?

“Well,” he said, sighing. “If everything does end up going south, I’m blaming you. Just so you know.”

Mabel snorted and tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Jerk. But I suppose that’s fair. Thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime.”

Patting his back, Mabel pulled away and stretched. “I’m gonna head back downstairs. Maybe start on dinner for tonight or something. You think we should finally make that pot roast?”

“Nah, I’m not really feeling up for a pot roast right now,” Dipper said, standing up as well. “What about steak and potatoes? It’s been a while since we had that and Stan would love it.”

“I’d _love_ steak and potatoes,” said Mabel. She then frowned. “But Ford doesn’t like potatoes, you know that.”

“We can make him his own pot of mac and cheese.”

“Oh, good thinking. And how about some green beans for Bill?”

As the two of them walked across the room and continued bouncing dinner plans off of one another, Dipper felt the closest to content since yesterday.

…

Tilting his head back, Bill downed the remainder of the margarita. His senses had dulled to the point where he wasn’t entirely sure if he was still awake. Something had been unblocked in his mind and he wasn’t going to stop until he was wrung out.

Something about Stan’s quiet judgmental apathy and abrasion encouraged it. Bill didn’t care what Stan thought of him.

“And then everything was gone,” he said, staring into the bottom of his glass.

“Where exactly did you get enough power to burn down an entire dimension?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bill said quickly. Stan narrowed his eyes. Bill cleared his throat, returning to twirling his glass. “I couldn’t leave, but I had a unique ability. I could travel through the collective between dimensions, and my new powers allowed me to manipulate it. I met new people and creatures. I saw new dimensions. It wasn’t long until I found the prophecy that led me to your dimension. Humans were … very interesting.”

“A  _prophecy?_ ”

Bill nodded. “The prophecy. It was given to me by a demon of fate a long time ago. It told me I would finally get to escape my dimension and enter this one.”  _Prophecies_ , he thought with annoyance.  _What are they even good for?_ He recalled the possessed human he had met on the road last month. Did that demon of fate ever escape its fleshy prison? Did it ever rat him out? Probably not, since he was still here.

“Hmph. Fortune tellers are all con artists. I guess that one got lucky, right?”

Bill would have argued, but then he stopped to consider it. He supposed that, in some ironic way, the prophecy did come true after all. Only … “The prophecy also said that I would get to spread my special brand of chaos here. Maybe even liberate you guys, too.”

“Right …” Stan’s brows drew together. “That  _Weirdocalypse_  or whatever.”

“It was  _Weirdmaggedon_ ,” Bill snapped.

“That sounds even more stupid.”

“Your face is stupid,” he grumbled to himself. He wanted another margarita, but Stan wasn’t flagging down the bartender. “It was my magnum opus. I’ve been working humanity since they crawled out of the caves for the day I’d get to cross over. It would’ve ended with one of you Pines breaking the Rift.”

“That old snow globe would’ve started the apocalypse?” Stan said with disbelief. “Huh. Well, what made you stop, then?”

For the first time since they started this conversation, Bill closed up a bit. But he couldn't stop. His lips were loose and he had the momentum of alcohol. “There … there was something else that had a plan for this dimension, too. Something that wasn't happy when it found out I ...”

“Uh-huh?” Stan leaned forward a bit. Bill swallowed, mouth dry.

“What matters is that my plans were ruined and I was back to being trapped. I had spent …” Bill’s voice cracked. “Even a trillion years is a long time to me, and I had spent all of it thinking I would get out of that hellscape by the end of it. And now I was in danger because …” He cut himself off, licking his lips. “I only had one chance left.”

“My niece and nephew.”

“Yeah … I was beyond desperate at that point.They took me in and … and,” his voice trembled with quiet intensity. “They need to know how much it means to me. They need to know that I’m better than I was with … with Ford.” He clenched his fists in his lap. “But he’s going to tell them everything and who would trust me after a story like that? I’ve already done so much to hurt Dipper and Mabel in the past. Ford could dunk me in acid again and again and it wouldn’t make up for everything I did.”

“Look, kid,” Stan said. “You sounded like you were a monumental asshole back in the day. I’m talking Hitler and Vlad the Impaler’s lovechild levels here. But the fact that you’re so wound up about this now shows you’re already heading in the right direction. You’re walking down a good path.”

“Just because I’m having a breakdown at the thought of abandonment doesn’t make up for everything.”

“Not really, no.” Stan shrugged. “But sometimes all you can do is say you’re sorry and move on.”

Bill fell silent, watching as Stan drank the last of his beer. It was his fourth glass and he was showing no signs of inebriation. Vague memories came back to Bill. Memories of watching Stan in his youth. Stan getting kicked out of his home and slowly descending into a life of crime. Stan fighting again and again to protect the only family he had left and trying to be what they needed him to be. Stan redeeming himself.

_Maybe …_

Bill sighed, resting his aching head on the table. “I want to get them something.”

“Well, sure. What kind of jerk doesn’t get the people who feed him a present for their birthday?”

Bill smirked, glad that a person like Stan existed. Then his grin fell away. “I just still don’t know what to get them.”

“Hmm, guess that would be an issue.”

Bill wracked his drugged up brain for an answer.  _I could show them my journals._ It would, after all, prove that he was incapable of being the grand mastermind Ford expected him to be.

But … no. What if it was misunderstood? What if they thought it was just some lie to get them to trust him? Bill couldn’t handle that; his journals were too personal.  _They would be a rotten present anyway. Who gives something they couldn’t use or don’t even need as a present?_

Bill snapped his head up. He had an idea.

“Is there a dollar store nearby?”

“A what?”

“A dollar store. That’s what it’s called, right?” Bill stood up, nearly toppling over. “Come on, I think I’ve got something.”

“Uh, okay, kid.” Stan reached into his pocket and withdrew a few bills from his wallet. Bill was bouncing with energy by the time he rose to his feet. “You think you’re gonna be okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bill said dismissively. “Let’s go.”

Stan glanced at his watch, unimpressed. Bill led him out the door, passing the bouncer on the way. The bouncer gave him a bewildered look. Was it because of Bill’s missing eye? Bill didn’t care. Bill was drunk.

They got back to the car with Bill tripping only twice and Stan drove them through town. Some of Stan’s words floated around in his mind as he waited, some standing out more than others. He cleared his throat.

“Hey, Fez. Did you ever know that I broke into your mind once?”

“You did?”

Bill nodded. “Back during that first summer with the twins. I made a deal with that Gideon kid. He wanted me to steal your safe code so he could get the Shack’s deed.”

To his slight surprise, Stan laughed. “And he hired a demon to do it? Sheesh, talk about overkill.”

“The kid wasn’t one for subtlety.” Bill paused, trying to rouse enough courage to say what he needed to next. “Well … I just wanted to say, ah … sorry, for that.”

Stan shot him an odd glance in the corner of his eyes. Bill waited for a response. “No problem, kid.”

…

It was about noon by the time Stan pulled them two of them up to the Mystery Shack. Bill didn’t even wait for the car to stop before jumping out and dashing across the lawn, falling smack on his face after tripping on nothing. He remained undeterred, keeping his purchases safe underneath his shirt as he ran through the gift shop.

“Bill?”

Bill paused when he reached the living room. Dipper was standing in the foyer’s doorway, blocking his path to the attic. Bill didn’t look up at his face, afraid of what he might see. He hugged the purchase to his stomach.

“Bill, where have you been all day? Is Grunkle Stan with you?”

“That’s-  _nothing_ is your business, Pine Tree.”

“Wha … Bill, are you drunk?”

“DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

Bill charged passed Dipper, his face bright red. It took extreme concentration to keep from tripping up the stairs, and he still ended up doing it once, but, thankfully, Dipper didn’t follow him. He could hear Stan’s voice enter the fray downstairs as he locked himself in the bedroom. Hopefully, he could explain a thing or two.

He didn’t have time to worry about that, though. Taking a seat at the desk, he removed the purchases from under his shirt. Stan told him that he had until dinner time because after that they would start exchanging presents. Six hours.

Bill yanked out a sharpie from the drawers and was just about to set to work when something stopped him. The world was still blurred around the edges and his blood felt like it was filled with tar. He can’t work like this, not with six margaritas swimming around in him.  _But waiting for it to pass would take too long! What did Pine Tree say to do …?_ Eat bread and drink lots of water. But that would mean going back down to the kitchen.

Snarling, Bill stood up and stumbled his way back downstairs. Thankfully, Dipper wasn’t there anymore and neither was Ford, for that matter, so he quickly plundered the kitchen for water bottles, bread loafs, and peanut butter. As he was ready to exit the kitchen, arms laden, Mabel suddenly turned the corner. Her face brightened when she saw him.

“Bill, you’re back—!”

Bill made a loud, ear-piercing screeching noise and ran passed the shocked Mabel.

“EVERYTHING WILL MAKE SENSE LATER,” he screamed to no one in particular before slamming the door shut.

…

The water and food had helped a great deal. Bill paced around the attic until the slightest bit of sobriety returned to him, and he returned to his work with vigor.

Five hours left.

On the plus side, Mabel’s gift required little to no preparation. He just needed something to put it in, which he found in the form of a mason jar in one of the boxes. But the difference was made up with Dipper’s gift, which required a lot more time and energy. It only took a half hour of work for a massive headache to flare in his skull. He took routine breaks, shaking out his wrists and continuing to pace. He didn’t lay down, not wanting to even risk the possibility of falling asleep.

By the time Mabel called him down for dinner, his body was on the verge of collapsing in on itself. Panic licked through him. It wasn’t ready, there was so much more he needed to write, his handwriting was terrible, the paper was  _wrinkled_ , there were smudges  _everywhere—_

The door swung open to reveal Dipper and Bill squawked, throwing himself over the desk. He hadn’t even heard the knock.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Bill said. Mabel’s jar was still on the desk in plain view and he snatched it and held it against his chest.

“Bill, are you okay?”

The question took him by surprise and he couldn’t help but swing his head up. Dipper’s face showed nothing but concern. Surely Ford had told him everything by now …? Then again, maybe Bill was in such a sorry state that Dipper couldn’t help but feel bad.

“I’m fine,” he said, softer this time. “I just need a few more minutes, okay?”

Dipper didn’t look reassured, but he nodded regardless, gently closing the door behind him. Bill sighed, kneading his forehead.

Shortly afterward, Bill shuffled downstairs, holding the gifts behind his back. He had such little confidence as it was, but it continued to slip with every step he took towards the kitchen. He took a deep breath.

The kitchen had been decked with colorful party decorations, from balloons to streamers. Dipper and Mabel were both wearing party hats, although Dipper took his off after he passed out the plates. Dinner was served.

Dipper and Mabel sat on one side of the table with Stan and Ford at the other. Bill took the head of the table to Dipper’s left and Stan’s right. He placed his gifts at his feet out of sight when he thought nobody was watching. Ford didn’t look his way and even seemed relaxed; he had taken off his coat. Light conversation flowed across the table with Bill, lock-jawed, on the verge of passing out the entire time.

At least the steak tasted good.

Finally,  _finally,_  it was time to exchange presents. The twins had accumulated a small mountain of gifts, most of which were in shipping boxes. Stan and Ford put them on the table. Mabel was bouncing in her seat and Dipper’s eyes were glimmering. Stan pulled out a recorder camera.

“Aaaaand  _action_ ,” he said.

Mabel squealed and dove right in.

The first presents they opened was from that Korean girl ( _Sweet cake? Jolly rancher?_ ). Mabel received exactly 26 paper lanterns, all decorated with elaborate, varied designs. Dipper got a hand knitted poncho with an impressively detailed picture of a goat, front and back.

 _How long did it take her to make that?_ Bill wondered as the twins gushed, Dipper putting on his new poncho. Bill gulped, sweat accumulating on his back.

The next two were from the beast, Grenda, who was, much to Bill’s relief, over in Austria with her fiancée at the time. The present was a matching set of Austrian military uniforms with identification and citizenship papers. The postcard, titled  _Greetings from Austria!,_ read:

_‘There's something in the works over here. I don't know if we'll go through with it, but these might come in handy in a few years if we do. If not, they make a good conversation piece anyway._

_XOXO_

_-Grenda’_

The twins gave each other concerned looks, which were shared across the table. Mabel dismissed it as ‘probably nothing’ and they awkwardly moved onto the next gifts.

 _‘To the best kids any parent could ever ask for_ ,’ the tag read.  _‘-Mom and Dad.’_

“The new Poomba Dance Exercise DVDs!” Mabel squealed as she ripped off the wrapping paper. The cover of the box collection featured several disturbingly muscled individuals wearing spandex and leg warmers.

“ _The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Native American Folklore,_ ” Dipper read, turning the book over in his hands. “Nice. I’ve been meaning to read this for a while.”

Wendy had sent them an exquisitely handcrafted picture frame with an old photo of all of them together. The twins must have been fifteen at the time. Bill wasn’t there, and he felt stupid for being disappointed by that fact. Soos and Melody had sent them rare, foreign chocolate that may not have been entirely legal but sure was delicious. Mabel had burned through half of her cut within a few minutes. Dipper gave Bill a bite of his, the taste of it boosting Bill’s mood immensely.

The next presents were sent from, Bill twisted his lips with distaste, Pacifica. Not surprisingly, her gifts were amazing.

“ _Fight Fighters IV: Fight_ ,” Dipper said, holding out the game case. His eyes were wide and bright. “This isn't even out in Japan yet! Where'd she get it?”

The attention of the table was drawn by a sharp, pitching gasp from Mabel. She was standing in front of a large painting, hands trembling in front of her. “This … this is the  _Swansophone Elegy._ This … is this an  _original?_ ”

“Uh, pumpkin, do you wanna sit down?” Stan asked from across the table, looking up from his camera. Mabel was breathing heavily, fanning herself as she flopped back down in the seat. Tears had welled up in her eyes.

“Pacifica, you beautiful blond bitch,” she said, sniffling.

“Mabel!” Ford gasped.

A new wave of jealousy pricked Bill’s mind. Even hundreds of miles away, Pacifica was able to get under his skin without barely lifting a finger. It was quite impressive, Bill had to admit.

Then, it was Ford’s turn. Dipper opened his present first and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he tore away the wrapping paper. It was a laptop, although Bill had never seen technology so advanced in this dimension.

“A DragonStrike 72480GRX12/47 UPSILON Laptop with Ice-Breath technology,” Dipper said breathlessly. “Mechanical keyboard edition.” He looked up at Ford, eyes shining. “Ford, this is incredible!”

“I got it from a dimension that invented the computer before they invented the typewriter,” Ford said, smiling proudly. “Just be careful not to let the duodec-core get too hot or it might create a wormhole.”

When Mabel unwrapped her present, at first there was only confusion. She held up a pair of translucent tools, her brow furrowed. Ford’s smile widened.

“Those are unique, high-powered sculpting tools. I got those from a dimension where the only rock in existence are diamonds. They’ll take some getting used to, since they’re made to be used by creatures with three hands, but I know you can handle it.”

She flipped on one of the tools and it began whirring at impossible speeds. A hungry glow appeared in her eyes. “I can sculpt the face of a mountain with these.  _Mount Mabelmore_ , and it’s all faces of Mabel.” She laughed ominously.

That just left Stan’s present. It was revealed to be a stockade of fireworks, much to the twins’ excitement and delight. Mabel, especially, was beside herself, holding up either a large firework or a small rocket launcher.

“The  _M-38 Triple Decker XL_ ,” she gasped. “How the fuck did you get this in the States? They’re totally illegal!”

“I’ve got a few pulls at the post office,” Stan said, looking quite proud of himself.

“Oh man, we’ve gotta launch these now,” Mabel said, hugging the firework to her chest as one might hold an infant. “Dipper, grab all the sparklers you can carry!”

“On it.”

With a jolt, Bill realized he was missing his chance. The twins were about to move on. He needed to speak up but found that the words were getting strangled in his throat.

“Whoa, wait, hold up,” Stan said and the twins paused in their preparations. He leaned over and murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “You’re on, kid.”

Bill wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Stan or stab him with his plastic knife.

The twins were looking at him now.

The wrongness of everything hit him all at once. He couldn’t go through with this, not after seeing every loving gift the twins had opened. His gifts were garbage in comparison. And he had obviously spent so much more time on Dipper’s present; would Mabel be insulted by that? He hadn’t even had any real  _wrapping paper._ This was a mistake, he had to get out of here—

“Bill?” Mabel asked, pleasantly curious. Ford was staring at him, eyebrows raised.

“I—uh,” Bill’s voice broke. He was backed into a corner; he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, he reached under the table and pushed the gifts towards the twins without preamble. He had wrapped Mabel’s present with old newspapers and used a shoelace as a bow. Dipper’s was rolled up and strapped with a thin rubber band. “Hap-Happy birthday.”

Mabel was quick to act, scooping up her gift with a pleased expression. Dipper hesitated just long enough to make Bill sweat, but he picked it up all the same. Mabel shook the gift to her ear, expression screwed up in thought.

“Oh, I think I know what it is,” she said to herself, delighted. They both unraveled their gifts at the same time and Mabel smiled. She was holding a jar of pinkish glitter. “I knew it!”

“I don’t know if it’s the same kind you used already,” Bill said quickly. “But you said you were running out, so …” He licked his lips and then added in a whisper, “Sorry for throwing all your glitter yesterday.”

“That’s alright, Bill. Thank you, I think this will be enough to finish the backend of my statue.”

“What is …?”

Everyone turned to Dipper, who was holding his gift out in front of him. He flipped it around. It was a giant world map with a few dozen blocks of text written all over it. “Bill, is this …?”

“It’s, uh … I don’t know if it’s 100% right, but that’s where I remember a bunch of human treasure being buried. So if you ever wanted to go on a, um, treasure hunt or anything …”

Dipper’s brow was furrowed as he turned the map around. Was that intrigue in his expression? Mabel leaned over his shoulder, pouring over the map. She didn’t look jealous or annoyed like Bill feared. She pointed to a passage of text.

“Hey, that one’s not too far away. We could totally do a weekend road trip sometime.”

“Yeah …” Dipper said, eyes roaming the map, before looking up towards Bill. “This isn’t some kind of prank, is it?”

Bill frowned, stung. “That’s not exactly a funny kind of prank.”

“None of your pranks are funny.”

There was a small smile on Dipper’s lips.  _He’s joking_ , Bill suddenly realized and he relaxed. “You’re just jealous because you stink at pranks.”

Dipper smirked, rolling the map back up. “Thanks, Bill. This is really cool.”

Bill’s chest swelled up. The twins weren’t lying to him; they really liked his presents. He felt lighter than he had all day.

Everyone started moving, then, getting ready for the firework launching outside. In the midst of the rabble, he made eye contact with Stan who gave him a thumbs up and winked. Bill grinned. Stanley had done a lot for him that day; he should think about returning the favor sometime.

For a moment, though, he let himself just look forward to cake and explosions.

…

Once everyone had their fair share of the cake, Mabel was the first to dash outside, followed after by Stan and Ford. Dipper lingered in the house, pouring over his new map just a little bit longer. Once he reached a good stopping point, he put it safely in his room so it wouldn’t get damaged before joining everybody outside.

Mabel and Stan were out in the yard, tinkering with the launcher. Ford was hovering near the crates, sorting through the remaining fireworks with a furrowed brow. Where was Bill? Dipper looked around, only to find him right on the back porch couch, a plate of cake in his lap. His face was covered in frosting.

“So you liked the cake, right?” he asked with a laugh, taking a seat at the other end of the couch. His knee bumped into Bill’s leg. “You missed your mouth, by the way.”

“Are you here to entertain me with witty repartee, Pine Tree?” Bill asked. His tongue snaked out to a glob of frosting on the corner of his mouth. “Because if you are, I’d like to at least finish my slice first.”

“‘Witty’, huh? You sure that's the word you want to go with? I'm pretty sure all my best jokes came to me an hour after I had a chance to tell them.”

“You’re right. You’re about as witty as a rock with a joke book.”

Dipper screwed up his nose with amusement and Bill shoved a forkful of cake in his mouth, getting even more frosting all over his lips. Dipper spied the light shadows underneath his eyes, the mark of a poor night’s rest. He frowned. “How are you feeling?”

“Decent,” Bill said, using his fork to scrape the icing off of his plate. “But I think I’m still a little drunk and I’ve had a lot of cake so don’t be surprised if I start throwing up.”

“Stan told me he took you to a bar. How was it?”

“It was a rundown hovel that smelled like old cheese and feet. Don’t ever take me to someplace like that again.” Despite himself, a soft smile curved his lips. “The margaritas were good, though.”

Dipper smiled. Things weren’t awkward or tentative between them. On the surface, it felt like nothing had changed.

He leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him. Mabel was shouting something and holding up two different fireworks. Ford was nodding his head along to her protests, rubbing his jaw.

He sighed, letting his eyes slip close. Their great uncles will probably stay with them for a few more days before leaving again. Mabel would stubbornly act like nothing was wrong with single-minded determination. Bill would … well, it was impossible to guess how Bill would act; he was the epitome of a wild card. And Dipper would …

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, sighing. Dipper didn’t know what he was going to go.

‘ _Why is he in danger? What is pursuing him? Is he putting you at risk by choosing to be here?_ ’

All fantastic questions that Dipper didn’t know the answer to. He tried getting those answers back when this all first began but had waived them out of courtesy. It was his symbolic white flag. He and Bill had had their deal, and Bill could keep whatever secrets he wanted if it meant Dipper and Mabel were out of danger.

What if he had been lying? It’s not unlikely, as Bill was still just like his old self at the time.

But what if he was  _still_ lying? Even after everything’s changed? After the rougarus and Pacifica’s beach house and … the feelings Dipper’s been having lately …

The anxiety was chewing him from the inside out and he couldn’t sit on it any longer.

“Bill?”

Bill looked up from his plate, frosting coating half of his face. A warm, affectionate feeling spread in his chest at the sloppy sight, and he was struck with the urge to muss his hair. He squashed the feeling down; it just made everything more difficult.

“I, um, know this is kind of out of the blue, but, uh … I’ve been wondering. Remember back when all of this started? Back when you were still a, uh, demon?”

“Uh, sure. What about it, Pine Tree?”

“Well, it’s just that I realized I never really asked about … well, you said that the reason you wanted to leave was because you were in danger, right?”

Bill looked down, frowning the remains of his cake. “Yeah. That was the long and short of it.”

Dipper waited for Bill to elaborate, but he never did. “It’s just that you never really talked about it with us and, you know, I guess it’s been on my mind lately.”

“Of course it is …” Bill mumbled and something squirmed in Dipper’s stomach.

“So, what, were you in trouble with the time police or something?” he said with a small chuckle and then covered it with a cough when Bill didn’t smile.

“Dipper, it's not really easy for me to talk about. Can you just ... maybe drop this? Please?”

“O-oh.” Dipper frowned, leaning away. “Yeah, um. Sure.”

Bill glanced at him, eyes wide. “You’re not going to get mad, are you?”

“No, I’m not mad. Just …” … disappointed. Bill hadn’t confided in him like he had hoped, and that had shaken him more than he thought it would. He smiled weakly. “Remember what I said back then, after our first dinner? You can keep your secrets. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. The deal was that me and Mabel aren’t in any danger from taking you in, right? That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah …” And Bill looked away just then, eyes downcast.

The conversation had taken its toll and there was an anxious unrest deep in his chest. On the one hand, it seemed silly and unfair. Bill was allowed to have his secrets and Dipper shouldn’t be so undone just because Bill wouldn’t divulge something so obviously personal.

On the other hand, he couldn’t shake the voice deep in his mind to set up barriers and take precautions.

‘ _An entire dimension falling apart into ashes. That's Bill's idea of fun. That's what he does. That's what he is_.’

‘ _I believe you_ think _he’s changed._ ’

“Pine Tree?”

Dipper opened his eyes. He could see Mabel was almost done setting up her monster fireworks. Bill was staring at him, eye surprisingly bright and clear. “What’s up?”

“Back at the bar, I had a really long talk with Fez about … well, a lot of things. He gave me some good advice. And I was thinking about how …” Bill paused to take a deep, wheezing breath, “about what I did to you in the past. And I just wanted to say that I’m ... s-sorry for hurting you.”

Dipper blinked, the words not quite registering. “You … you’re sorry? You’re talking about what happened at the sock opera?”

Bill nodded. Dipper couldn’t summon the words. He stared at Bill long enough that Bill had begun leaning away and pulled his hood over his head. He held out his hand. “Wait! S-sorry, I’m just a little bit, um ... W-what brought this on?”

“Well, like I said,” Bill’s voice was muffled by his jacket. “Fez and I were talking about it and, well … You’re really important to me, Dipper,” he said, voice like a whisper. “I don’t want you or Mabel getting hurt, especially by me. I know it doesn’t make up for what I did, but I wanted you to know anyway.”

The sock opera incident had been one of the most traumatic things he had gone through as a boy. Dipper didn’t think he’d ever get an  _apology_  for it. He didn’t think it was possible. But here they were.

“Th-thank you, Bill,” he said. There was so much more he wanted to convey but words couldn’t cut it. “Really, that means a lot to me.”

Bill peeked out underneath the edge of his hoodie. Dipper smiled, and Bill responded with a little smile of his own.

Something exploded. Dipper whirled over to find the fireworks show was beginning. Mabel was whooping loud in celebration, fists raised high over her head. Stan was applauding, and Ford was on his back in the grass, face covered in soot. His glasses were missing.

“ _Ow_ ,” Bill whimpered as the first of the fireworks blew up in the sky. He covered his ears. Dipper laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Do you need me to go get some earplugs?”

“Nah, I think I’m fine.” With a haggard sigh, Bill leaned back into the couch, stretching and releasing an impressive yawn, hands still planted over his ears. His eyes were drooping. His exhaustion was clearly catching up to him.

“Whatever you say, man.” Dipper stood up, rolling out the kinks in his shoulders and then moving to sit on the porch steps. He’d have a better view of the night sky this way. Mabel was already working on loading up the next display. That last batch was enough to alert the entire eastern province. It seemed unlikely this night wouldn’t end without a visit from the cops.

Bill’s apology helped with his simmering anxiety a great deal. It didn’t exactly prove anything, but he felt deep in his gut that Bill had meant it. And, for tonight at least, all he wanted to do was go with his gut.

The fireworks were beautiful.

…

Despite feeling dead on his feet, Bill didn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t quite bring himself to crawl in bed with Dipper yet. He’d wait until he was sure he was already asleep.

He found himself in the kitchen, making another few entries in his logbooks on the table. Mabel and Dipper were upstairs in the attic, using the spare beds there, and Stan said he was going to sleep ages ago. He should have complete privacy.

Remembering all the information for Dipper’s treasure map had taken too much out of him, so he took it easy, just writing an entry about the past few days. The words flowed out of him, even if describing Ford’s attack was harder than he thought it'd be.

The sound of footsteps stirred him. When he looked up, Ford was standing in the doorway. Instinct made Bill half jump out of his chair, spine stiff.

“Jesus Christ, you’re like a fucking ghost,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice.

Ford waved him away, frowning. “Stand down, Bill. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Bill snorted. “And just why should I believe you, huh?”

“Really? You’re going to question  _me_ about  _my_ intentions?”

“I haven’t done anything incriminating for over seven years. You attacked me yesterday. If anyone should be in the doghouse right now, it’s you.” When Ford made no move towards him, Bill slowly sat back down. “What do you want, Sixer?”

“You know, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t use that name,” Ford said. Bill didn’t answer, glaring, wishing he could drill a hole through his head. When Ford didn’t get a response, he rolled his eyes and walked towards the refrigerator. “I don’t want anything from you, Bill.”

“Yeah, you just want to set me on fire,” Bill grumbled, glaring at Ford as he reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet. He had begun filling it with water from the refrigerator. “What, can’t sleep, Fordsy?”

“Nope. Haven't been able to since you showed up.”

“That long, huh? I'm impressed you’re still on your feet. I almost broke down after four days of no sleep.” Ford didn’t laugh, but Bill didn’t expect him to. Instead, he watched Bill over the rim of his glass. Bill wilted a little under the gaze, but he sat straight. “This dimension really blows, you know? I thought getting here would make my life so much better. Even when everything changed and I had to become a human to do it. But it’s just been a giant train wreck. You would’ve enjoyed watching it.”

“I’m sure.”

Ford still didn’t move. He was watching Bill with undisguised caution and mistrust, still sipping on his water. It annoyed Bill to no end, but he figured Ford had earned his paranoia at this point. He returned his attention to his journals.

“I had a good time with your brother this afternoon. Gave me a lot of good advice. Wish I could pay him back somehow. Got any ideas?”

“Hmm.” Ford brought a hand to his chin, mockingly thoughtful. “Oh, how about this? You could try getting out of his niece and nephew’s life forever.”

“Ha ha,” Bill said with a sneer, gripping his pencil hard enough it could snap. The frustration brought about by exhaustion spurred him to say, “If you’re still so convinced I’m here to destroy the twins’ lives, why not just deal with me now, huh? It seems awfully inefficient for you to just let me walk.”

“Well, whatever lie you’re telling them seems to be working.” Frowning, Bill looked up. “The twins insist on giving you another chance. I don’t like it, but I will respect their wishes and I trust they can take care of you should anything happen.”

“Really? You’re going to just … leave it to someone else?” Bill chuckled disbelievingly. “That’s not like you at _all_.” A muscle sprang in Ford’s jaw, which he tried to cover by taking another sip of water.  As if  _Ford_ could ever trust anyone enough to ‘handle it themselves’. There are probably a hundred booby-traps designed to kill Bill and make it look like an accident.  _Respect their wishes, my ass …_

He glanced in the corner of his eye, but Ford wasn’t looking at him. He was staring off into the distance. Then, he looked back up at Bill, a new brightness in his eyes.

“Why’d you do it, Bill?”

Bill blinked, straightening up. It would have been redundant to ask him to elaborate on what he meant. “Why do you ask?”

Ford sighed through his nose, and Bill didn’t think he knew the answer himself. “I never understood how someone could want to unleash such a great evil on the world. I thought … if all you wanted was to be a part of our world, I could have helped, couldn’t I? If you had just told me what it was you really wanted, surely there was something I could have done …” In a moment of weakness, Ford let all of his emotions flash onto his face.

_Oh._

_So that’s what this was about_.

Bill released a loud sigh, slightly shaking his head. “You could never understand because humans are unenlightened monkeys. I had a clear idea of what I wanted to do to your dimension. I was going to throw the craziest party the multiverse had ever seen and I’ve been working humanity since the dawn of time to get it done. There was nothing you could have done to change my mind.”

A bitter smile twisted Ford’s lips. “Nothing, huh?”

“Nothing. Don’t give yourself so much credit. It’s how you got into that mess 30 years ago.” Ford pinched his brow in a pensive manner. Bill scribbled another few words into his journals. “Now do you mind? I’m trying to focus here.”

“Right …”

Bill waited for the sound of fading footsteps. Instead, after a moment, a hand appeared in his peripheral vision. The hand held his eyepatch. Bill held his breath.

“I found this while working in my lab last night,” Ford said, depositing the eyepatch on the table. He was shaking his head, brow quirked. “A yellow triangle? Really, Bill?”

“Shooting Star made it for me,” he mumbled, plucking up the eyepatch and holding it for a moment before snapping it back onto his head. He had missed the sensation of wearing it so much. “Why didn’t you just burn it or throw it away?”

Ford shrugged. Perhaps he had just wanted to rib Bill for the design choice. Bill didn’t care, he was just glad to have it back.

“Well, thanks. I’d say I owe you, but, you know …”

“Not interested.” Ford downed the rest of his water and made to leave the kitchen. Was that it? He didn’t even make a real suggestion for how Bill can pay back Stan. Unless …?

“Wait, Sixer.” Ford paused in the doorway and Bill blurted, “Fez is a pretty smart guy, you know? He’s not …” he trailed off, biting his lip. “Just, keep that in mind, why don’t you?”

Ford didn’t say anything, expression perplexed, and Bill wanted to slap his forehead. He refrained from clarifying in case he made things worse. Finally, he heard retreating footsteps. Perhaps there was another way he could make it up to Stan.

He turned to his journal, wondering how best to word this most recent exchange.

* * *

 

**NOTES:**

Wow, you guys went crazy since the last update! So much that the special mentions are too big to stick in the endnotes, haha, so it'll have to go at the end of the chapter instead. ^^U

Special Mentions! 

Scenes from DBC:

[[ja-zeo-a]](http://ja-zeo-a.tumblr.com/post/143405079510/can-i-just-say-that-this-story-defining-bill) Chapter 13, Dipper carrying an injured Bill after Ford’s attack.

[[mincoco]](http://mincoco.tumblr.com/post/143537184224/this-audio-is-for-3) Chapter 9, an audio post of Bill confronting Pacifica

[[mischievousrosecipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/143777320498/i-dont-know-if-you-saw-this-already-but-i-drew) Chapter 12, Bill and the bra.

[[nameswheretaken]](http://nameswheretaken.tumblr.com/post/143072528067/hey-definingbillcipher-i-m-not-the-best) Chapter 13, Bill opening the door to find Ford

[[yuyafangirl]](http://yuyafangirl.deviantart.com/art/Defining-Bill-Cypher-600798610) Chapter 12, Bill in the changing room.

Comics:

[[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/141862211952/phil-1-stanford-0-fanart-for-the-most-recent) Bill exercising his masterful disguise skills.

[[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/142897411077/bill-vs-the-bee-part-3-a-truce-has-been-made-and) Bill v Bee Part 3

[[davesfriendbill]](http://davesfriendbill.tumblr.com/post/143034148422/bill-vs-the-bee-part-4-fords-presence-has-not) Bill v Bee Part 4

[[deerdentist]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/141852259658/since-bill-never-came-back-after-sock-opera-in) The mystery of Bill’s height change.

[[kofukuart]](http://kofukuart.tumblr.com/post/143263398988/definingbillcipher-slides-this) Dipper being protective and Bill taking full advantage of that.

[[mincoco]](http://mincoco.tumblr.com/post/143466156259/1-bill-is-salty-about-pacifica-and-eats-a-ton-of) Bill, the ultimate memer.

[[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/142703299218/pls-dipper-just-love-this-child) A comic based on the Coconut Cream Pie drabbles.

The Gang:

[[billdipblogging]](http://billdipblogging.tumblr.com/post/140758530417/athina-blaine-i-drew-this-inspired-by) Dipper and Bill lying next to each other.

[[billissfulcipher]](http://billissfulcipher.tumblr.com/post/143138586616) A collection of Bill sketches (and one Pacifica sketch, which gives me life).

[[ephemeralphenomena]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/142411735243/soo-im-really-in-love-with-the-way-you-write) A smiling Bill, with the most pinchable cheeks in existence

[[ephemeralphenomena]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/143641572068/im-sorry-for-the-wrinkle-im-trash-that-is-a) A drawing of Bill “Cute Triangle” Cipher.

[[faluvian]](http://faluvian.tumblr.com/post/142827913420/athina-blaine-after-you-tagged-us-on-that) Bill and his perfect smile. I’d kill for teeth that straight and white. TwT

[[galaxyyart]](http://galaxyyart.tumblr.com/post/143632311561/i-dont-like-the-feeling-of-drawing-with-my-tablet) A sketch of Bill and Dipper, which somehow spawned a series of asks about Bill and pregnancy. I regret nothing.

[[kofukune]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/143352179313/i-also-drew-this-and-forgot-to-upload-it-this) Bill reaching nirvana.

[[mischievousrosecipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/143806298518/i-drew-some-more-thank-you-theyre-adorable) Dipper and Bill standing next to each other, being cute, as always.

[[ratattacksaw]](http://ratattacksaw.tumblr.com/post/143295926689/definingbillcipher-i-tried-to-draw-some-sketches) Bill in various outfits.

[[redcelebiart]](http://redcelebiart.tumblr.com/post/143788118909/fuck-i-fell-in-love-with-this-fanfic%20) Sketches of Bill with a guest appearance of Ser Jimsworth and the demon dorito.

[[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/141922815953/more-macho-mabel-pls-bad-reputation-plays) Mabel, who could punch me in the face and I would say “thank you”.

Misc.

[[featherstorm]](http://featherstorm77.tumblr.com/post/143145723131/so-i-drew-the-thing-but-sadly-i-dont-really-have) Bill wearing a wedding dress.

[[ja-zeo-a]](http://ja-zeo-a.tumblr.com/post/143619109985/oh-my-grob-bill-you-need-a-hug-and-love-and-so) A response to [[this]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/143616548388/a-sad-burnt-noodle-edit-binding-marks-included). Hold the bean. Never let him go. Even when he starts biting.

[[mincoco]](http://mincoco.tumblr.com/post/142781049199) Bill in a hanbok wedding dress.

[[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/142765384573/im-here-to-deliver-i-am-unable-to-put-into-words) Bill in a princess-style wedding dress.

[[strrix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/142314192853/im-so-sorry-if-this-doesnt-work-but-this-is) An animation of Bill’s walk cycle.


	15. Dipper Pines, Upon Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slow day inspires the gang to go on a magical outing, but their plans take an unforeseen turn.

With a grunt, Dipper slammed the trunk shut. All of Stan's luggage was ready to go. Mabel and Stan had each other trapped in a crushing bear hug like they were trying to snap each other in half.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, Grunkle Stan,” said Mabel.

“Chin up, squirt, I’ll be back in a few months. We can go hunting for turkeys when I do.”

 _Absolutely not_ , Dipper thought. The last turkey hunt Stan and Mabel had gone on ended with half the town at their front door. Mabel’s face brightened, though, so he kept it to himself for now.

Stan turned towards Bill, giving his shoulder a firm pat. “Good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

“Thanks, Fez,” said Bill with undisguised affection. Theirs was a strange relationship, but Dipper was hardly surprised. The sooner they split apart, the better. Both of their favorite pastimes were picking on Dipper. Not to mention he was sure at least one of them would end up arrested. Bill has already been banned from the lake. Twice.

Soon enough, Stan was turning towards Dipper and engulfing him in a crushing hug. “It was good seeing you, kid,” Stan said. “Hold down the fort.”

“Will do, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said as he pulled away. “See you at Thanksgiving.  No fireworks this time.”

Stan laughed and patted his shoulder, either not noticing Dipper’s firm tone or ignoring it. Not surprising, but Dipper meant it this time. He didn’t want the police showing up and eating their dinner. Not again.

At last was Ford. The two brothers exchanged a simple handshake. Ford smiled, not unkindly.

“Have fun in Hawaii,” he said.

“Thanks.”

Ford cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. Stan glanced down at his feet, puffing out a sigh.

To Dipper’s left, he heard a frustrated huff and turned just in time to see the tail end of Bill rolling his eye. He shared a frustrated look with Dipper. Was it because of their great uncles awkward eggshell dance? Since when was Bill invested in that mess?

Stan climbed into his car, giving everyone a last goodbye wave. Mabel blew him kisses until the car turned the corner and disappeared into the forest.

“Well, there goes the life of the party,” Bill said wistfully. “I didn’t even get to break his Bricker streak.”

“Bricker?” Mabel asked. “The hell is Bricker?”

“It’s a card game Fez taught me.  _Bricker?_ ” When everyone kept looking confused, he continued, “Okay, so first, you put three cards face down. You flip them and if you have a card above ten but below an ace you win the round, but not if you have a four, two, or a five in your hand or your opponent has a six or a king. If you have a jack but your opponent has two twos, your opponent wins the round and if you have a one and a queen in that's called a Miss Coppertone and that lets you flip the third card over and substitute any other card you want—”

“Bill,” Dipper said, fighting down a smile, “Did you ever win this game?”

“I – No, I don’t think so.” Bill frowned. “Why?”

“Oh, honey.” Mabel clapped him on the shoulder. “You didn’t bet anything valuable, did you?” She patted his back reassuringly, leading him towards the Shack. “Come on, I’ll go teach you a real card game.” Her mischievous smirk promised otherwise.

Dipper was just about to follow the others into the house, but the sight of Ford lingering at the end of the forest stopped him. Ford had his hands in his pocket, staring at the trees. It wouldn’t be much longer before he left, too; probably tomorrow morning.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked, drawing up next to him. Ford blinked, making a sound as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, um, nothing of importance.” A pause. Dipper remained silent. “I was, uh, reminiscing, I suppose. I used to go on hikes all the time.” He turned a fond look at the forest. “It was a big reason why I built my home out here in the woods.”

Dipper hummed. It's been a while since he and Ford had had a good chat. Everything had been so hectic these last few days and Ford hid in his lab for most of his trip anyway. Perhaps it had been for the best, as anytime Bill and Ford were in the same room, things got ugly. Dipper hated it. He hated choosing between Bill and Ford.

“You wanna go for a walk?” he asked.

Ford’s eyebrows went up. “Are you sure? I think Mabel is making lunch soon. Grilled cheese.”

Dipper shrugged. “Not really hungry.” He liked this idea better, anyway. He’d finally get to show Ford all the new anomalies he’s discovered. “Come on, I know this spot where you can find a bunch of crystal fungus. If you hold it right in the sunlight it turns into a rocking horse fairy.”

“You’re talking about the  _Amanita Equus?_ ”

“Oh.” He frowned. “Is that what they’re called?”

“Oh, um. You said rocking horse?” Ford chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, I misheard you; I thought you said, uh,  _clocking_ horse.” He smiled. “Go on, show me your findings.”

Dipper rolled his eyes but led them towards the hiking trail. “No, it’s fine. It’s kind of lame anyway. I always sneeze a lot whenever I walk through there. Let’s just go and see what we find, huh?”

“That’s a good plan.”

As they approached the trail, Dipper felt eyes on his back. He looked over his shoulder and spotted Bill’s face pressed up against the window, staring at him. Dipper waved and then made a thumbs up. Bill scrunched up his nose, and then waved back. Part of him wanted Bill on this hike; he’d know a few interesting locations undiscovered by Ford.

Dipper swallowed, immediately feeling guilty. Bill’s chemical burns had barely started healing. He sighed, following Ford further down the trail.

They meandered through the woods, sometimes leaving the trail and finding new ones. They chatted about various things; current events, Ford’s travels, Dipper’s books, memories, and so forth. Occasionally, they were distracted by things they’d find in the forest, such as the tree mirror and a herd of manotaurs in the distance.

Other than that, it was a calm walk.

“—and so the captain somehow figured out that I had thrown the crystal into the volcano and he ordered his whole crew to attack me. I was caught completely off guard.”

“What’d you do?” Dipper asked with baited breath.

“Well, I had to fight my way out, of course. It wasn’t easy; they had already stripped me of all my weapons. Luckily, I was able to reach an emergency gun in the sole of my shoe, but it was a close call. Closer than I’m used to.”

“No kidding,” Dipper said with a chuckle, but worry pricked the back of his mind. Ford’s stories were always amazing, but hearing about the most dangerous stuff made him wish Ford wouldn’t venture out so much. “Guess you can check ‘Single Handedly Fight Space Pirates’ off the list.”

Ford laughed through his nose. “This was hardly the first time I’ve gone against space pirates.” He was frowning, deep in thought. A definitive line creased his forehead. He sighed. “I’m getting far too old to be doing this sort of thing alone.”

“What? Ford, you’re the most capable person I know. You’re not even that old.”

Ford didn’t answer, staring ahead at nothing. It occurred to Dipper perhaps it just wasn’t his age that had him concerned.

He still remembered the day Ford asked him to be his apprentice. Ford never admonished him for his decision to stay home and grow up with Mabel, but he could sense his disappointment. How different would things be if he had accepted?

There’s no point worrying about that now. Dipper couldn’t leave with Ford if he wanted to, anyway. He had his books. The Mystery Shack. Mabel. Bill.

Perhaps he could somehow convince Ford to take on an assistant. Another time.

“My God, look at the time,” Ford said, gesturing to the setting sun. The sky was a canvas of oranges and blues. The stars were beginning to peek through the atmosphere. “We should head back. I need to start packing up.”

Doubtless, Mabel and Bill were annoyed at their extended absence. They would be waiting for Dipper to make dinner if they hadn’t already ordered pizza. 

He and Ford made their way back to the Mystery Shack and by then night had fallen. They were exchanging one last story. Ford had his hand on Dipper’s shoulder, laughing so hard he neared tears.

“And you drove the truck into the ocean, huh? That’s incredible, Dipper. I can’t believe you were able to evade the police in a 16-ton truck.”

“It was nothing,” Dipper said, feeling warm. “I mean, I almost got us caught anyway. We definitely would've gotten arrested if it weren’t for—” He stopped, tightening his jaw. 

Ford squeezed his shoulder.

“Stay safe, son.”

Slipping his hands back into his coat, Ford walked down the path towards the Shack. Dipper lingered.

 _Stay safe? I am safe_. He reached into the pocket where he carried the plasma switchblade. He traced the grooves with his thumb.  _From what? I don’t know. But I guess I’m safe._

He tucked away the knife and followed Ford back to the house.

…

Ford left early the next morning. Mabel made everyone waffles and scones. Bill wasn’t there. She smiled and made conversation, but there was a tension to her posture. Dipper didn’t blame her.

They said their goodbyes outside. Bill didn’t leave his room. Dipper brought him his breakfast after Ford had left.

Then it was just the three of them again.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. They ate their lunch and watched some TV and once dinner rolled around, they played a card game – a  _real_ one – before finally going to bed. It felt like things might be able to go back to normal.

But work at the Mystery Shack was slowing down now that summer was over. Their tours barely consisted of more than three or four people. Dipper tried to occupy himself with doing chores around the gift shop, but there was only so many times the floor could be swept. Mabel still didn’t like him doing anything more intensive that might damage his back and he didn’t want to worry her. Time slowed to a crawl.

When they settled down to watch TV that night, Bill pressed himself up against Dipper’s shoulder. At first, Dipper barely noticed. He repositioned himself to a more comfortable position. Then the familiarity of the gesture struck him and he tensed up.

He gently started rolling his shoulder. Bill stiffened but didn’t move. Stomach sinking, he was about to try again, but then Bill suddenly moved to the other side of the couch. Dipper didn’t look up to see what might have been on his face.

The next night, Bill sat on the other side of the couch without a word. Despite himself, Dipper felt a pang of …  _something._

Dinner became quieter. They were running out of things to talk about. It was easier when Stan was here, forcing the conversation with his typical abrasive charm. Mabel tried hard to do the same but something was weighing her down. Dipper could see in in the way she bent her shoulders. Dipper didn’t know what to say, either; he didn’t know what was safe to say. Soon, dinner was just the sound of clattering dishes.

The days bled into one another. Twice in a row he woke up a little after 3 AM. Bill would be curled up on top of his chest. That’s how it tended to happen lately. Dipper would fall asleep with Bill absent, only to wake to him there later.

Perhaps this arrangement was for the best. Dipper was starting to have trouble getting to sleep with Bill on him lately. Perhaps it was time for Bill to learn how to sleep on his own. Dipper wasn’t going to be there for him forever, after all. He can’t suffer through days of insomnia because his security blanket was absent. It wasn’t healthy.

Now wasn’t the time for that, though. He kicked the sheets off and, trying not to wake Bill, slid out from the bed. Once he changed into a clean shirt and jeans, he made sure Bill was still tucked in before leaving his room and making for the kitchen. Trying to fall back asleep was a losing game. It was better to just cut his losses over a cup of tea.

Soon, he was sitting at the kitchen table, a mug warming his hands. An hour ticked by. In another four hours, Mabel would wake up and ready the Mystery Shack for opening. Today was her day to don the Miss Mystery suit. Bill wouldn’t wake up for another six hours, despite Dipper’s complaints. He’d get back to work on weeding the lawn before stopping an hour too early and either watch TV or hide in the attic. After they toiled through another day, they’d settle in for another uncomfortably quiet dinner and then go back to bed without much of anything being said.

Surrounded by darkness and quiet, the true extent of everyone’s recent misery smacked him in the face. Mabel looked so sad when she thought no one was looking. Bill wouldn’t meet his eyes anymore and barely talked to him at all. Dipper couldn’t even distract himself with his book’s draft; he was in the middle of a severe writer’s block.

When was the last time the three of them even had a conversation with each other?

No. That’s enough. Enough of this  _rut_. They were on the brink of losing something irreplaceable. If he didn’t do something now, they might lose it forever.

Brimming with purpose and caffeine, Dipper downed the rest of his drink and set his mug in the sink. He needed to pack something to eat.

…

“Mabel?  _Mabel_.” The floorboards creaked under Dipper’s feet as he walked over to Mabel’s bed. Mabel shifted slightly and Dipper tapped her shoulder. Her eyes flickered open. “Mabel, I need you to get up. It’s important.”

She fixed him with a cloudy gaze, then shuttered her eyelids, groaning. Thankfully, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

“What’s going on, Dipper?”

“Get dressed. I’ll tell you upstairs.”

Another groan and a curse. Dipper struggled to hide his smile as he left her room and marched over to his bedroom. Waking up Bill was about as successful, although there was more complaining and swearing. When Dipper shook him, Bill grabbed his hand and tried biting him. Dipper yelped and tugged his hand away just in time.

“Bill, you have to get up,” Dipper said. Bill replied with incoherent mumbles and burrowing deeper under the blankets. This called for drastic measures. “Hey, remember that one time you dumped ice water in my bed? That was  _pretty funny_ , wasn’t it?”

A beat passed and then Bill swiveled around and gave Dipper a sharp glare. Finally, he started getting up.

Dipper waited outside as the two did their morning routines. Soon enough they were stumbling out the door, fully dressed. Weak sunlight was peaking over the treetops, but the sun had not quite risen yet. A dim pink glow peeked over the treetops in the chill of the morning

After Bill closed the door, Dipper snuck behind them and, as discreetly as he could, locked the door. He tucked the key in his pocket and joined the two on the lawn. They could barely keep their eyelids open.

“So what is it, Dipper?” Mabel asked, rubbing her face and yawning.

“Yes, Pine Tree,” Bill said, wiping the sleep from his unpatched left eye. “What is so  _goddamn_ important you had to drag us out here at ungodly-hour-o-clock?”

“Well.” Dipper fidgeted. He held up the picnic basket. “I was thinking, you know, it’s been a while since we did something fun together with just the three of us. So I thought, the Shack doesn’t open until 9, we have time, why not pack something to eat and go on a hike?”

Mabel was still looking at him as if she didn’t know for sure he was really there. Bill’s eyes had flown wide open, his lips tightened to a thin line.

“You said,” he said slowly, “it was  _urgent_.”

“Well, it is—”

“I’m going back to bed,” Mabel said and began shambling back to the house.

“You can’t, I locked the doors,” Dipper said, sweat breaking on the back of his neck. Bill took a step towards him and he flinched back. “Don’t even think about it! I’ll chuck the key into the forest. Either way, we’re going to be spending some time out here.” Desperate, he pulled out one of the thermoses from the bag. “Look, I made you both coffee. See? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“You’re an ass,” Mabel snapped, snatching the thermos out of his hand. Dipper smiled ruefully.

“This is the most we’ve talked all week. You know we need this.”

She hummed as she took several large gulps of her drink. Dipper winced; he had just made that, it must be scalding her throat. She resurfaced, smacking her lips, and gave him a considering look. Then she slackened her shoulders and sighed.

“Yeah. Fine.” Her mouth curled into a small smile. “I’ll play along. Lead the way, captain.”

Bill sighed and rolled his eye. He took the second thermos, grumbling under his breath. He didn’t challenge them.

Dipper smiled and led the party towards the forest. With each step he took, his confidence in his idea grew stronger. The crisp air invigorated him. The stuffy tension of the Mystery Shack was left behind.

The walk took an hour. When they arrived, he set down the picnic bag and spread out his arms.

“ _Tada_.”

The mirror hadn’t changed since he and Ford had visited it yesterday. It was barely different from when he had discovered it almost a year ago, not including the color of the leaves. It was embedded in the gnarled trunk of one of the largest oak trees he’s ever seen. Despite being in the middle of a forest, the mirror was pristine.

“What’s this?” Mabel asked as she approached the mirror, Bill at her elbow.

“Well, other than a mirror?” Dipper chuckled as Mabel threw him a glare. He spread out the blanket and took a seat. “I actually don’t really know much about it. Ford couldn’t figure anything either. I thought it might be fun to try and hash it out together.”

“Can you believe this guy?” Mabel muttered to Bill. “Getting us up at the crack of dawn and trying to rope us into doing his dumb nerd stuff.”

Bill snorted. “What a putz.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Dipper said over their snickering. “It’s not dumb nerd stuff. You can ignore the mirror if you want, you know.”

“I’m  _kidding_ , Dip. No, this is pretty cool, actually.” Mabel brushed the hair away from her forehead, giving her reflection an appraising eye. “And who am I to refuse good looking company, right? But,  _wait._ ” She leaned closer towards the mirror, fingers on her face. “Ugh, is that a  _zit?_ ”

“What’s a zit?” Bill asked, trying to get a look at Mabel’s face. She turned away from him, frowning.

“It’s, uh, like this sack of bacteria and pus on your face.”

“You mean a pimple?”

“Yeah, yeah, pimple, whatever.” She returned to the mirror, scratching at her chin. “ _Ugh_. Disgusting. Wish I had your skin, Bill. Can I have it?”

“Sure. I’ll trade it for your upper body strength.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it and Dipper rolled his eyes.

“So what’s up, Bill?” Mabel said. “Got any idea what this is?”

“Hmm.” Bill brushed the mirror with his fingertips, trailing along the edges as he slowly rounded around the tree. Dipper watched him, eyes on his contemplative face. “Tough to say, really. Something old. I mean, whatever’s old to you people, anyway.”

“‘Before people’ old?” Dipper asked.

“Oh yeah, this thing has been around for far longer than humans.”

 _There goes my warlock theory_ , he thought, disappointed. “That’s pretty old. What do you think it does?”

Bill completed his circle of the tree, glancing at it up and down. His brow was furrowed and he frowned. “Dunno. Mirrors can be used for a lot of things. Windows, doors, places to hide your things. And I can’t tell how to activate it without knowing what it does.”

“Guess we’re just gonna have to use the ol scientific method,” Mabel said, craning her neck as if to look behind her reflection. She cleared her throat and threw out her arms. “ _Please tell us what you do._ ”

Nothing happened.

“You  _asked_ it to tell you?” Dipper asked, lifting a brow.

“Hey, I’ve played enough of your dumb campaigns to know sometimes you just need to say please.”

Dipper would have retorted but, well, a good few of his puzzles for  _Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons_  were solved by saying please. It was funny, dammit. He retreated behind his journal, jotting down,  _Does not respond to polite requests._

They continued with their experiments. Mabel made silly faces in the mirror, saying maybe it just needed a good laugh. Bill pressed up against it and then started shoving it like he wanted to move the tree. When Mabel climbed up to see if there was anything of interest up top, Dipper suggested to Bill that they try to dig underneath it. They took two large rocks and began shoveling away. They cleared away the soil, but only found roots. By the time Mabel came back down, having nothing to report, they gave up.

Soon, they stopped for breakfast. Mabel paced around the blanket and released a large sigh.

“The scientific method is so  _boring_ ,” she complained.

“It is when nothing happens,” Dipper admitted, distributing everybody’s egg and bacon sandwiches. Mabel groaned, slumping her shoulders before plopping onto the ground and lying on her back. She released another loud groan and then pushed herself stomach up onto her hands and feet. Her hair pooled on the ground. She groaned again.

Bill was staring at her with saucer-like eyes. His eyes seemed bigger whenever his eyepatch wasn’t on. He threw a wild look at Dipper as if he was demanding an explanation.

 _It’s just a bridge_ , Dipper thought and opened his mouth to say as much, maybe offer a small tutorial as well, but something stopped him.

 _Stay safe_ , whispered the voice in the back of his head.

The opportunity passed. Bill looked back to Mabel. “How do you do that?”

“Core muscles,” was all she said.

Bill blinked, bewildered. Then, he scrambled onto the ground next to her, glancing at her one more time before trying to heft himself up as well. He puffed his cheeks out. He couldn’t even get his head off of the ground. Mabel couldn’t hide her snort. Bill flushed, kicking her feet out from under her and she fell to the ground in a giggling heap.

“Looks like someone hasn’t been practicing their yoga,” Mabel said. Bill angrily muttered under his breath and then tried one more time. Dipper had to hand it to him; he got at least half an inch this time. Progress was progress, after all.

When Bill collapsed onto the ground again, panting and grumbling, his shirt had ridden up a bit. His smooth stomach peeked out. Coughing, Dipper tried to focus all of his attention on his sandwich, with middling success. He held out Mabel's.

“Come on, guys, eat up.”

Once they finished their meals and gulped down the rest of their coffee, Mabel and Bill returned to investigating the mirror. Dipper leaned up against another large tree, adding some more notes to the journal. There wasn’t much else to say for the mirror entry, so he scanned the rest of the pages to see if there was anything else he could expand on. Not much to add there, either.

Sighing through his mouth, he started idly doodling in untouched corners of the pages. Nothing too big, just circles and lines. He started drawing squares over and over again and his hand naturally shaped it into a triangle. He smirked, glancing over the journal to Bill, who was attempting to jump and grab the lowest hanging branch on the tree.

What would somebody reading the journals think of Bill now? He doesn’t even have a top hat anymore.

Finding a large enough margin on Bill’s page, he chewed his pen for a brief moment before quickly writing down the title:  _Human Form._

With painstaking patience, he started sketching Bill. His art skill was nothing to write home about; Mabel had always been vastly superior in that field. But he’s been practicing illustrations during his journal work and he didn’t think he was terrible.

Like a tick, he would keep glancing up at Bill. He tried doing that as little as possible in case he was noticed, but perhaps he shouldn’t worry anyway. Bill could be as observant as a corpse sometimes. He didn’t want  _Mabel_ noticing either, though. Doubtless, she’d get the wrong idea.

As he sketched, he added a few notes in the margins.  _Binding marks here, here, and here,_  he’d say.  _Injured dermis. Freckles. Left-handed. Noodle arms._

The sun was rising in the sky by the time he finished cleaning his sketch. It looked pretty good if he said so himself. He felt like he had captured the brightness of Bill’s eye.

He closed the journal and looked up. Mabel and Bill had long since moved on from the mirror, playing catch with a large, smooth rock. He checked his phone; it was 8:06 AM. The Shack opened at 9. They should probably start heading back now.

“Time to pack up,” he called out, lugging the bag over his shoulder.

Mabel lingered in front of the mirror for a moment, and then slowly turned around. Just as she walked away, however, she let out a sharp cry and turned heel, barreling into the mirror with a loud  _thump!_ The mirror didn’t break. She fell to the ground with a small cry.

“I thought I could try sneaking up on it,” she admitted softly as she returned. Dipper gently shook his head.

After a moment, Bill sighed, drawing Dipper’s attention. “With our luck, it’s probably just a plain mirror some old god made to screw with us.”

Dipper’s lips twitched. Yes, that would make perfect sense, but he didn’t mind. The three of them got what he wanted out of this.

It took him a few seconds of walking to realize Mabel wasn’t next to him anymore. He stopped. Bill ran right into him. She was standing still, staring intensely at the mirror. Suddenly, she gasped sharply, causing Dipper to jump.

“ _I know what to do,_ ” she said. “We’ve got to break it.”

Dipper’s eyebrows shot up. “ _What?_ ”

“No, it makes sense. It’s the only thing that makes sense. There has to be something  _behind_ the mirror.” Her face was bright. Dipper blinked and she sighed with frustration. “It’s ingenious because no one would  _think_  to break it. Bill said so himself, mirrors can be used to hide your things. That can be literal. And that trunk is pretty huge, there could be some kind of chest or hidey-hole back there.”

Dipper shook his head and looked to Bill for support. To his surprise, Bill was slowly nodding along to Mabel’s explanation. He caught Dipper’s eye and shrugged. “It makes a little sense. Redirection is as much a preventative measure as anything else.”

 _Unbelievable._ He turned back to his sister who was biting back a large smile. “I – Look, if we break the mirror and it turns out you’re wrong—”

“I’m not wrong. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Dipper sighed. “Gut feeling?”

“Gut feeling.”

Well, damn. Dipper shrugged, too spent to come up with a better argument. He was ready to go home. And, yes, technically they hadn’t thought to  _break_  the mirror. It was as legitimate a theory as anything else. “I guess, Mabel. Go for it. You’re the one that’s getting the seven years of bad luck, though.”

“So supportive.” Mabel patted his arm and then surged forward towards the mirror. She ducked down and picked up a large rock. After taking a moment to weigh it in her hand, she began lining up the shot. Dipper tensed up, a second away from squeezing his eyes shut.  _God, please let her be right._

She reeled back with the precision of an MLB pitcher and tossed the rock with all of her might. Dipper winced as the mirror broke apart into several large pieces. He craned his neck, hoping to get a look at whatever treasure might have lied beyond.

But nothing was there. For a split second, all Dipper could see was a pitch black abyss. At his elbow, he heard Bill swear.

The temperature dropped by ten degrees. A blustering wind shot out of the gulf. He covered his ears and screamed, but he couldn’t hear himself over the gushing roar. The wind pulled him off of his feet and he didn’t feel himself touch the ground.

Everything went dark.

…

Dipper didn’t know how much time had passed before he opened his eyes. A dull pain throbbed throughout his body, especially in his head and chest. It hurt to breathe. Gulping, he pushed himself onto his upper body, his arms trembling. Mabel and Bill were sprawled a few feet away. They both were covered in bruises and scratches.

He looked at the mirror, or, at least, where it used to be. All that was left was the swirling darkness he had seen earlier. A single, clean shard rested on the ground in front of him.

He shivered. Why had it gotten so cold all of a sudden? Glancing up at the sky, his heart dropped.

The sky. It was starting to get dark outside. The sun was hanging low in the west.  _Had they been lying here the whole day?_

He scrambled to his feet. “ _Mabel_ ,” he rasped, throat dry. He shook her shoulders and she groaned, eyes fluttering. “Mabel? Wake up.”

She waved him away. “M up, ‘m up …”

Reassured she was alive, he moved on to Bill. He didn’t rouse at first. Christ, did he hit his head? Then, Bill’s eyes flew open and he took a shuddering breath.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Not sure,” Dipper said as he helped Bill into a sitting position. Mabel had straightened up as well, rubbing the back of her head and groaning.

“You know, I had figured there was some kind of little elf village behind that mirror,” she said. “Not a vortex of death.”

“Well, we’re still alive, so at least we’ve got that going for us,” Dipper said, rising to his feet. He held out his hand to help the two of them up as well.  _Don’t panic. Just. Don’t panic, whatever you do._

“Are we still in Oregon?”

Dipper narrowed his eyes, looking down at Bill. Bill wasn’t paying attention to him, staring at the forest, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? Where else could we be? This is the same clearing we were just in.”

“I know that, but, well, just look around.”

Frowning, he scanned the forestry. It took a second to realize what he was talking about. All the trees, once green with freckles of orange and brown, were now barren and sickly. There were no chattering animals or any other signs of life. The forest was dead.

“It’s not winter, is it?” he mused to himself, but that couldn’t be right. Even during the bleakest of winters the forest had never been this barren.

“That’s not all of it,” Mabel said, nudging his shoulder. “Look at the sky.”

Dipper did and his feelings of dread grew. He had been so distracted by the position of the sun he hadn’t even noticed the heavy blanket of smog smothering the atmosphere. Usually, during this time of day, the entire Oregon sky was painted over with a multitude of stars. Now, only the brightest ones could peek through.

“Did we let out some kind of plague?” Mabel asked, her voice small.

“We could be in the future,” Bill mumbled. “It pretty much looks like this. Well, at least until it gets worse.”

Dipper tightened his lips, slightly shaking his head. It can’t have been a plague because the three of them were still unharmed as far as he could see. What kind of plague worked so fast anyway? The future theory might have been a better bet, but still, there was something not quite right with that, either. Maybe they really had just been trapped in the mirror all day before getting spat out, like the Bottomless Pit?  _But that didn’t explain what happened to the forest._

He walked back towards the mirror, staring into the abyss. With a pounding heart, he reached towards it and heard Mabel gasp beside him. “It’s okay,” he said, touching the tendrils of smoke. They ghosted through his fingers and a chill ran through him. It was ice cold. As he reached further in, he touched the back of the tree trunk. “There’s nothing here,” he said, pulling away. “It’s hollow.”

“Let’s get out of here,” said Mabel. “We can figure out what happened at home.”

 _If home is still there_. He swallowed. How did this happen so quickly?

“We should take the shard,” Bill said. “I think it’s going to come in handy.”

Figuring it couldn’t hurt, Dipper took out the blanket and gently wrapped up the broken mirror shard. He placed it in the picnic bag next to his journal. They left the clearing. The hiking trail was still there so they didn’t have to worry about finding their way through this desolate version of their forest.  _Maybe this is all just a bad dream?_ he thought halfheartedly to himself. He’s woken up in enough weird situations to recognize the difference between a dream and real life.  _I guess it’s better than the bottom of the ocean_.

He still discreetly pinched himself, just in case.

No luck.

A shudder went through him. He was being watched. He looked left and almost jumped at Bill’s intense blue eye on him. He had put his eyepatch back on.

“What is it, Bill?”

Bill didn’t answer for a second. Then, he said, “Do you remember that run down knick-knack shop we found during our drive to Blondie’s house?”

Dipper frowned. He remembered the storm that caused them to pull over, but anything past getting out of the car and being shoved back in was masked in static.

Mabel said, “With that creepy cashier and those tiny centaurs?”

“Yeah, that. While we were there I ran into this, this strange lady in the back. Said she was a psychic and gave me a fortune. It went something like,” Bill paused to lick his lips, eyes going unfocused. “‘ _A shattered mirror will bring you bad luck, but you shall free your broken reflection._ ’ I haven’t made any sense of it, but now …”

Dipper blinked rapidly, incredulous. “Why didn’t you say anything until now? Why didn’t you stop usfrom trying to break the mirror if you knew that?”

“I didn’t remember it until now,” Bill mumbled, looking down at his feet.

“I thought demons were supposed to have perfect memories,” Dipper snapped although he knew it was pointless. Bill flinched and Dipper sucked in a frustrated breath, looking away.

“Breaking the mirror was my idea, Dipper,” said Mabel. Her eyes were sad and full of guilt. “This is my fault. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

He sighed. “No. It’s not your fault, Mabel. You were just trying to get it to work. I brought us to that stupid mirror in the first place.”

“You two sure are quick to throw yourselves on the chopping block,” Bill said under his breath and Dipper turned to glare at him. They all fell into silence filled with only their quickened footsteps and the howling wind.

_A shattered mirror …_

Usually, Dipper would be quick to discard anything a psychic said – he had grown up with Stan Pines after all – but that prediction was too on the nose to be discarded now.  _Free your broken reflection._ A chill went through him. “Do you think we really did let something out?”

“I’ve never even touched that mirror before so don’t think it has anything to do with me.”

“It was yourprophecy, Bill,” said Mabel. “It has to have something to do with you.”

Bill released a frustrated huff, waving them away.

“It’s too vague to be useful, anyway.” Dipper turned to Bill. “Did the fortune teller say anything else?”

“No.”

Bill didn’t look at him as he said it, which set off red flags, but nothing else indicated that he could be lying. There’s no point interrogating him now. They needed to be united if they wanted to get out of whatever mess this was. There would be plenty of time for poking and prodding once they were safe at the Mystery Shack.

The walk took longer than he would have liked, but soon enough he began recognizing key landmarks. They crested the hill and finally they were back in the nestled glade that housed the Mystery Shack.

At first glance, it  _looked_ like it. Same building design, same paint job, same ridiculously huge sign on the roof. But instead of  _MYSTERY SHACK,_ the sign read,

_CHURCH OF THE HOLY MYSTERY_

The T in Mystery had broken off.All the windows had been replaced with intricate stained glass, the totem pole and W.H.A.T. weather vane replaced with crosses. The signs had been torn down. It  _was_ the Mystery Shack but at the same time it  _wasn’t_. His stomach churned.

“What is going on?” Mabel whispered, voice trembling. “What happened to the Mystery Shack?”

 _Keep a clear head. Think._ Could this just be some strange future? The Mystery Shack turned into a church? Was it a future where the twins never returned from the forest?  _What happened to Stan and Ford? Our parents?_ His blood turned cold at the thought.

“Someone’s here,” Bill said. He pointed towards the back of the house. A station wagon Dipper had never seen was parked there.

“Let’s get to the bottom of this,” Mabel said, already fixing to run down the hill. Bill held out his arm, eye wide and she paused.

“What if they’re not friendly?” he asked.

Dipper gently grabbed his wrist and pulled it down. “Right now, we need information more than anything. We’ll have to risk it.” It occurred to him that perhaps he could ask Bill to go into the Mindscape and start surveying. Doubtless, it would be faster.

But, no. Bill has always made it clear using the Mindscape was a last resort. He still looked scared whenever he mentioned it.

He let go of his wrist and then jumped down the hill with Mabel. A few moments later, he heard Bill scramble after him.

They approached the … church. Up close, he could see that the building had fallen into disrepair. The paint was chipped, boards were cracked, and weeds cropped out their heads out all over the overgrown lawn. If it weren’t for the car, he might have thought this place was abandoned. His chest ached.

Mabel knocked on the front door. Dipper leaned forward, a second away from pressing his ear against the wood. He heard the sounds of shuffling and footsteps and a distinctive cough. The door swung open.

It was Stan. Dipper’s knees almost gave out in relief.

“Stan—”

“ _Grunkle Stan—_ ”

Dipper yelped as something squeezed his arm numb. Bill had a death grip on his and Mabel’s forearm, but one look at his severe expression made Dipper’s jaw snapped shut. He looked back to Stan, who hadn’t moved and was staring at them with a slightly agape mouth.

“Children …”

Another red flag. Stan had never called them  _children_. He was also impossibly pale and wearing a black cassock. A  _priest? Stan_ as a  _priest?_

Dipper’s alarm rocketed when Stan’s eyes started to water and suddenly he and Mabel squashed in a crushing embrace. The scent of incense and smoke assaulted him. Bill’s hand disappeared from his arm.

“I can’t believe it,” he heard whispered in Stan’s voice gruff. “Oh, I can’t believe it. Praise be!” he cried, pulling away from them. His eyes were shining. “I knew this would happen someday. That’d you’d see the light and return to me. Please, come in. I’d like to meet your new friend.”

He turned into the Shack. Dipper snuck a look at Mabel; she reflected all the horror he felt. Clearly, this was Stan and clearly he had recognized them. The future theory made no sense now because  _Stan was still here_ , but  _different_. That had to mean there were  _different_ versions of him and Mabel running around here as well.  _Alternate_ versions in an  _alternate universe._

_Christ._

Dipper forced his legs to follow the mirror Stan. After a second, Mabel followed suit. Could she guess? Did she know? They needed to talk about this as soon as possible, but his mind felt trapped in a fog. What would they  _do?_

After a moment, he realized Bill hadn’t followed them. He turned to find him still lingering in the doorway, glaring at the woodwork. Mabel nudged him back even as she continued to follow the mirror Stan, giving him a quick nod.

“What’s the matter, Bill?” Dipper asked as he walked up to him. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Bill shook his head. “No. I don’t really like churches. Not my thing.”

Dipper creased his brow, confused. “Well, I don’t like church either. It’s pretty boring. But I can still go inside.” A thought struck him. “Are you scared?”

Bill grimaced, leaning up against the doorframe. “Have you ever wondered why the only church in Gravity Falls is in ruins?” Dipper frowned and Bill rolled his eye and continued, “I’m a  _demon_ , Pine Tree. Churches and I don’t really mix.”

“You’ve always said every religion is wrong.”

“They  _are_ wrong. Don’t be ridiculous, kid. This isn’t about religion, it’s about  _people_. Churches, synagogues, it doesn’t matter. They’re all bombs waiting to blow.”

Dipper’s eyebrows were crawling up his forehead. Bill said that he wasn’t scared, but there was a vulnerability to his expression. “What do you mean?”

Bill sighed. “These rituals with their chanting and unified movement … Humans don’t understand what that is. They’re tapping into a power that’s beyond them.” He crossed his arms, wincing. “Imagine you’re in a building that’s soaked in gasoline. At the other end of the room, there’s a baby holding a grill lighter. You know the baby doesn’t have the dexterity to pull the safety and use the lighter. Hell, its hands probably aren’t even big enough. But you wouldn’t feel safe standing in that room, right? Get it?”

He thinks he did get it, a little, but that doesn’t explain what had Bill so apprehensive. “I guess I wouldn’t. But no one is in there right now, and you're not a demon anymore anyway. You’ll be fine, Bill, I promise.” On impulse, he held out his hand. “Come in with me.”

Bill flinched and even leaned away from him. Dipper didn’t move. After a tense, long pause, Bill eventually gave in, sighing and placed his warm hand inside of Dipper’s. Dipper let a pleased smile twist his lips before leading the two inside.

Mabel and the mirror Stan had gone through the nave towards where the living room should be. Various paper pamphlets and old newsletters littered the ground. Bill was tense, squeezing Dipper’s hand so hard his thought his fingers were about to fall off. Dipper didn’t mind, and once they left the room, Bill’s grip slacked almost instantly. He didn’t let go of Dipper’s hand.

They were in the kitchen and Stan looked to be fixing some tea. Dipper had to blink again. It was unsettling how similar yet different this mirror Stan was. He had a bit less muscle and looked more like a bent twig than a normal Stan, who looked like a banana with a baseball glued to his middle. He looked exhausted and had more wrinkles on his face, but still smiled as Dipper and Bill appeared in the doorway. His eyes fell on their hands and Dipper quickly let go. Stan’s expression never changed.

“It’s been so long and you both look better than I’ve ever seen you. You,” his eyes went up and down Dipper’s body, “um, look much paler. But you’ve finally done away with that disgusting hair product! Mabel, you got rid of that terrible black getup. You grew out your hair, too.” He placed a firm hand on Mabel’s shoulder, his face warm and full of affection. “It suits you.”

Mabel looked a second away from sobbing or throwing up. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “F-Father Pines?” Stan’s eyebrows went up and Mabel gently took his hand and removed it from her shoulder. It looked like it pained her to do so. “I’m so,  _so_  sorry but we’re not … We’re not who you think we are.”

Confusion. Stan glanced over at Dipper. He recognized that expression; the one where Stan thought he was being played. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who else could you be?”

“We’re still Dipper and Mabel,” Dipper said, stepping further into the kitchen. “We’re just not,” he held up his hands uselessly, “ _your_ Dipper and Mabel. We’re not from around here.” In a flash, he remembered the shard. He zipped the picnic bag open. “See, we were out in the forest by that weird tree mirror when we broke it and ended up here.”

He held up the blanketed shard, not sure what he wanted or what he was expecting. Stan wasn’t even looking at the shard; he was looking into the bag, expression foreboding.

“Where did you get that?”

Ford’s journal. With a scramble, Dipper tucked away the shard and pulled out the journal and handed it over. Stan placed his trembling hand over the golden stamp and Dipper could see a lifetime’s worth of hardships painted on his face.

“ _Six_ ,” he whispered. He looked up at Dipper, his eyes shining. Then, his face contorted with rage. “Get out.”

Dipper’s eyelids flew open. “Wha—?”

“ _GET OUT_ ,” he roared, shoving the journal into Dipper’s chest. “I  _will not_  tolerate more demons sent to torment me in my own home.”

“Wait—” Dipper tried but Stan was already shepherding them out the kitchen door.

“OUT.”

“Grunkle Stan  _please_ ,” Mabel said, tears threatening to spill over. She was gripping his forearm. “We’re lost and don’t know what to do. I’m sorrywe’re not your real niece and nephew, but  _please_. We need your help.”

Her plea gave Stan pause. His chest was heaving.

Dipper said, “Please.”

A long, tense silence fell. The kettle started to shriek. Finally, some of the fury on Stan’s face dulled. He let the two of them go and wearily sunk into the kitchen chair, kneading his forehead, hunching his back. Dipper had never seen someone look more broken-hearted.

The kettle was still screaming. Dipper blinked and then sprang into action, grabbing one of the chipped mugs. “Um, do you like honey or sugar with your tea?” he asked as he poured the drinks. A long second passed and then Stan murmured what he thought was ‘sugar’. Dipper grabbed a handful of sugar from a nearby canister and quickly stirred it in.

He turned and placed the mug on the table near Stan’s elbow. There were only two chairs, and none of them moved to take it. The silence persisted.

Stan pulled his hands away from his face. He ignored the mug, eyes trained on the table, and he released a slow breath. He cleared his throat. “I don't know why even I thought … People like them don't just come back like that.”

“I’m sorry,” Dipper whispered. Stan shook his head.

“Everything happens for a reason.” He said it so softly he might have been talking to himself. “I know that, deep down. It's hard for me to understand sometimes, but I know it.” He dragged his hand across his face once more and then took a long drink from his tea. He turned towards the twins. “You two must be from some kind of parallel world, right? You came from that mirror in the forest?”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah. I thought if we broke it we would figure out what it did and, well,” she sighed, “I guess I was right.”

Stan grunted, steepling his fingers just over his mouth. He fixed his eyes on Bill. “And who are you?”

“Nobody important,” Bill said from his spot in the doorway. Stan crinkled his eyes, suspicious. He looked back to the twins.

“I’ve always figured that mirror had some kind of pocket dimension behind it. Couldn’t figure out how to get it to work.” A bitter smile graced his face. “Never would’ve thought to break it. Stanford might have, if he …” Stan’s smile fell away as he trailed off, staring intensely into his mug. “Here I thought I could put that life behind me. Looks like it just followed me home anyway.”

“Anything you could tell us about that mirror would be a big help,” Dipper said. “We need to figure out a way to get home.”

“I’m sorry. I ceased all my research projects over thirty years ago and my journals were taken from me. I,” his voice trembled, “I’ve found a higher calling. There’s nothing I can do.”

“S– F-Father Pines?” Mabel asked. The quiet tremor in her voice made Dipper look over, startled. “Where is Gr– Stanford?”

A spasm of pain crossed Stan’s face. “Stanford died a long time ago.”

Mabel gasped. Something sharp stabbed Dipper in his chest. Ford? Dead?How could that be possible?  _Dead?_ Christ. He didn’t want to imagine it. He wanted to go home.

Stan stared into his mug with cloudy eyes. His hands had started to tremble. Dipper didn’t begin to know how to comfort this version of Stan. Should he even try? Was this any of their business? But the thought of abandoning Stan to his misery, even a different version of him, filled with him distress.

Mabel moved before he could even reach a decision, placing her hand over his. Her eyes were wet, but her voice was clear as she said softly, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Stan didn’t remove his hand. A plethora of emotion crossed over his face and he pushed up his glasses to knead the bridge of his nose. He released a long, deep sigh. “It was an accident. Thirty years ago. Stanford and I had moved out here to investigate the local anomalies. He was my research partner.” He smiled a warm, wistful smile. “He wasn’t the brightest. No, definitely not. But he was always ready and eager to help me, if for no other reason than because I was his brother. It was the best years of my life.”

He trailed off, his breathing becoming labored. Dipper didn’t want to hear the end of this story, but Mabel squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. Talk whenever you’re ready.”

“I was working on a portal.” Dipper’s heart jumped and he forced himself not to look back at Bill. “It was my most ambitious project. A portal that could lead to other dimensions. I drafted a demon of knowledge to help me build it. Stanford was nervous about it but I was too blinded by my ambition to care. The day I thought it was ready I wanted to do a test run. But I miscalculated. The dimension we were opening was supposed to be dead, a void, but something was there. Stanford was standing too close and something came out.”

Stan shuddered and looked a second away from slumping onto the floor. Mabel kept her grip firm.

“I couldn’t close the portal in time. The thing’s … appendage was severed. There was blood everywhere. Stanford was,” his voice broke, “crushed.”

Dipper fought down the petulant urge to cover his ears.  _Ford isn’t dead. He’s alive and safe, you just saw him the other day_. God, Stan looked so miserable. Dipper moved forward without meaning to. He wanted to offer his condolences, give him a hug,  _something_ , but was stopped by a hand on his sleeve. Bill shook his head.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “There’s nothing we can do.”

Mabel didn’t notice the exchange, wrapping her arms around Stan’s shoulders. Stan didn’t reciprocate, but he didn’t lean away. They stayed like that for a long moment, Mabel patting his back. Before long, Stan sighed and removed her hands.

“You should leave.”

Bill’s insistent tugging on his shirt indicated he agreed, but then Mabel said, “No, it's fine, we can stay if you—”

“ _Star_ ,” Bill snapped and Mabel looked at him with a bewildered expression. “There’s no point. Let’s get out of here.”

“Bill,” Mabel said, narrowing her eyes. “We can’t just—”

Stan held up a hand. “He’s right. The longer you’re here, the more danger you’re in. You need to figure out a way to get back to your world as quickly as possible.”

Mabel’s jaw flapped and she threw a frustrated look at Dipper.  _How can we just leave him like this?_ the look demanded. It didn’t feel right, but the mirror Stan wasn’t lying. They needed to get moving. There wasn’t anything they could do to help. Dipper didn’t want to stay in this miserable version of their Shack any longer than necessary, anyway.

“Come on, Mabel,” he said, turning towards the door. Mabel huffed, clenching her fist, and for a moment Dipper thought she was going to argue. But she just leaned down to give Stan another, long hug. Stan winced and then patted her shoulder.

“Listen,” he said as Mabel pulled away and turned towards the door. “If you happen to run into your other selves, just let them know I’m still here for them. They can always come home no matter what.”

Mabel tightened her jaw and nodded.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Dipper said. Surely they owed this other version of Stan that much. Bill all but dragged the two of them outside, leaving the mirror Stan to his tea and his empty chair.

Mabel rounded on them the second they closed the front door. “We shouldn’t have left him like that.”

“The only thing staying would have accomplished is wasting more time,” Bill said.

“He was in  _pain_.”

“He’s  _not your Stan_. He’s practically a stranger. And he said it himself, this place is dangerous. We need to focus on getting out of here.”

Mabel whirled on Dipper, who flinched back. “This is  _wrong_ , Dipper. Even if he isn’t our Stan, he still needed our help. We should be there for him.”

Dipper fidgeted nervously under the burning weight of his sister’s eyes. “We can’t help him, Mabel. There’s a lot going on here that we don’t understand and staying here longer than we need to isn’t safe. Let’s just try and get home.”

Mabel snorted with frustration and threw her hands up, storming off towards the forest. Dipper winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you have any ideas, Bill?”

Bill reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of the old pamphlets that had littered the church. “I think so.” He unraveled the paper and revealed what looked like a map of Gravity Falls. “First things first, we’re going to have to fix the mirror and that means getting the shards. They’re scattered all over town.” Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, humming to himself. “There’s at least eight, counting the one we have now.”

“You can sense them?” Dipper asked, breathless. Bill nodded, uncapping a black marker.

“I can get a general sense where they are. It’s passive, but I can detect things that damage the natural flow of magic in the universe. It was a tool of the trade.” With his eyes still closed, he hovered his hand just on top of the paper. Every few seconds, he’d circle a spot on the map. 

 _What is this version of Gravity Falls like?_  He was curious, despite himself. He pulled out his journal, jotting down several notes into the mirror’s entry.

Bill opened his eyes. There were eight circles on the map, including one centered right where they were.

“Let’s start here,” Dipper said, pointing. “It’s the closest.”

“Agreed.” Bill tucked the map into his back pocket and the two of them started down the trail that linked to town. Mabel was pressed leaning up against a tree, arms crossed and expression stormy. He wanted to say something to her, maybe insist that what they were doing was fine, but that would probably make her angrier. It would be best to keep a lid on this for now.

Bill explained their itinerary as they walked through the forest and left the Church of the Holy Mystery behind them.

…

The fireplace was roaring, casting harsh shadows over the room. An intense, orange light flickered across the occupant room's face. She sat facing the hearth in her black leather armchair, sipping from a dainty, ornate teacup. She sighed, closing her eyes, enjoying the warmth. It had been a long day, but such a rewarding one.

Something pressed against the back of her mind as if someone was pressing themselves against a window, trying to look in. She exhaled through her nose. What does he want now? It had better be important.

She closed her eyes and lowered the barriers around her mind. When she opened her eyes again, the world was gray and the fire was frozen in time.

“B-begging your pardon, Miss Pines,” a voice said from somewhere behind her, “b-but I spotted an anomaly on the outer perimeter and I thought you’d want to k-know right away—”

“Report.”

Her voice was ice. 

The owner of the voice flinched. “Y-yes, of course, right away.”

An image was projected onto the wall. Three people were walking down the road that led into town. One person, she didn’t recognize. The other two were nearly exact replicas of her and her brother. Clones, perhaps? She lifted an eyebrow.

_Interesting._

“Where did they come from?”

“The t-tree mirror in the forest.”

“That mirror was inert. That’s what you said.”

The hard edge to her tone sent a thrill of fear through the demon. “Y-yes, it w-was, Miss Pines, b-b-but I can see now it-it’s only activated once br-br-broken from the other s-s-side.”

The replica of her brother was saying something. In his arms, he held a familiar looking journal. The handprint had six fingers instead of five. Didn’t her great uncle’s brother have six fingers? She had never met him but had seen plenty of pictures littered around that abysmal church.

Then, without warning, the third person she didn’t recognize looked right at her through the projection. His eye was narrowed. She raised her eyebrows with mild surprise. Blond hair. One eye. A triangle eyepatch? How tacky, and a terrible choice if this version of Bill was trying to stay hidden.

So, not clones. Alternate selves. The mirror must lead to an alternate universe.

“Tell my brother I have a job for him,” she said. Bill made a small noise of distress and she fought the childish urge to roll her eyes. Hopefully, her boneheaded brother would abstain from bullying the demon long enough to stay focused on his task. “Keep an eye on these three. You’re dismissed.”

She put up her mind’s barriers without waiting for a response. The fire roared to life, basking her in warmth. She set the teacup on the tableside, where a small portal opened underneath it. It fell into nothingness, winking out of existence. As she rose to her feet, she flicked her wrist and the fire spluttered and died.

A plan was forming in her head. Yes, this could prove to be very interesting, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special mentions!
> 
> [[floofcats]](http://floofcats.tumblr.com/post/144271128363/some-doodles-i-did-in-school-today-of-my-favorite) Various doodles of scenes from DBC and the gang
> 
> [[ironiisulfate]](http://ironiisulfate.tumblr.com/post/144640504248/definingbillcipher-welp-i-got-bored-at-whatever) A drawing of Bill being cute and fluffy
> 
> [[mincoco]](http://mincoco.tumblr.com/post/145593496524/prank-a-defining-bill-cipher-fanfic) A fanfiction of DBC. We’re getting real meta now
> 
> [[mincoco]](http://mincoco.tumblr.com/post/144535147949/some-quiet-bill-drawing-i-listened-to-doves-by-we) A soothing illustration of Bill
> 
> [[mischievousrosecipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/145180427113/i-decided-to-cosplay-bill-from-dbc-i-tried-my) and [[mischievousrosecipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/145184126143/ahhh-i-promise-this-is-the-very-last-batch-of) Cosplay of DBC Bill!
> 
> [[nerdsteak]](http://nerdsteak.tumblr.com/post/145192160117/crashes-through-window-emoji-meme-bill-c3-and) Bill and Pacifica for the Expressions meme
> 
> [[ratattacksaw]](http://ratattacksaw.tumblr.com/post/144285748429/definingbillcipher-i-tried-pretty-hard-so-i) Chapter 4, Bill just before the rougaru confrontation
> 
> [[redcelebi]](http://redcelebi.tumblr.com/post/145095496463/i-recreated-definingbillcipher-s-bill-in-animal) An Animal Crossing Bill sprite. Isn’t he adorable?
> 
> [[sarokophoenix]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/144921788978/sarokophoenix-finally-ive-completed-fanart) A comic of scenes from chapter 7-11
> 
> [[wonderlandpandabow]](http://wonderlandpandabow.tumblr.com/post/144305575843/yay-making-contribution-to-a-fandom-this-is%20) Chapter 11, Bill having the time of his life
> 
> Bonus:
> 
> [[definingbillcipher]](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/post/145675578138/chapter-15-dipper-pines-upon-reflection) Cover art for the Mirrored Arc


	16. Dipper Pines and Several Hours of Bad Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang must navigate their way through the Gravity Falls of the mirror universe to find their way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Not dead, after all. Huge apologies for the wait on this chapter, it's been a trying couple of months. Enjoy!

Somehow, seeing the mirror version of Gravity Falls drained Dipper more than seeing the Shack. The streets, which were clean and quaint back home, were overgrown, cracked, littered, and, most of all, deserted.

“Is there anyone still here?” Mabel asked.

“I hope not.” Dipper looked over towards Bill. Bill was staring at a fixed point in the distance, goosebumps peppering his skin. He was frowning. “Bill, are you okay?”

“We’re being watched.”

“What?” Mabel said, looking around. “Where? Can you see them?”

“Not like that. Someone in this world is watching us with magic.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can sense it.” He looked to Dipper as he said, “Natural flow in the universe, remember?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. Do you know who it is?”

“Sort of. I think I’ve met them before.”

“Are they friendly?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

They drifted through the town, occasionally referencing the map. Dipper spotted a decrepit, rusty building that reminded him of _Greasy’s_. It looked abandoned save for rats. Bill was quiet, his hackles still raised. If Dipper placed a hand on him, he was sure Bill would try to bite. Underneath his alertness, however, he could see traces of fear. He remembered the conversation they had just outside the mirror.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“It’s fine.” At Dipper's staring, Bill huffed. “What? What do you want me to say? Okay. You’re a jerk. Happy?”

“A little.” They kept walking, passing by even more familiar, disgusting buildings. “So you think you’ve met them before? Care to elaborate?”

“Not much to elaborate on. I sensed the people watching us and something about them feels familiar.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I needed you to elaborate for me." Dipper narrowed his eyes. "Why can't you remember? Did something happen to your memory? Is it this dimension?”

Bill paused for a moment, then stared back at Dipper, his mouth half open as if he was about to explain himself but utterly silent. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. 

“Bill?” said Mabel

“What?” Bill said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s going on, Bill?” asked Dipper

“Nothing! Jeez, get off my case, kid. Really. Nothing important. It’s just that this mirror world—” Bill stopped himself and puffed up his cheeks, not even bothering to finish his lie. “You know what, yeah, you’re right, something is wrong. It’s been wrong since I got this body. The fact that you two boneheads haven’t figured it out means I’m just that good or you’re dumber than I thought.”

Dipper and Mable looked at him with a mix of confusion and worry.

“Come on, then, spit it out,” said Mabel.

Bill sucked in a short breath, flicking his eye skyward before turning towards them. “So. There’s a lot I hadn’t considered would happen when I got a human body and, well, the brain happened to be one of them. I didn’t figure getting one would have any real effect on me, but it has. Chemistry was one effect. Memory capacity …” Bill trailed off, licking his lips.

Dipper flashed back to the beach house. It was just after the heist while they were around the fire pit; Mabel asked Bill to speak another language. Bill’s eye had gone wide, face flushed with embarrassment. At the time, Dipper wrote it off as Bill getting called on a bluff.

“You’ve been forgetting things, haven’t you?”

Bill bit his bottom lip and nodded. “Practically everything is already gone. Everything from before I got a body is just static at this point.”

“Bill, that’s horrible,” Mabel said.

“You’re telling me.” Bill dug his hands further into his pockets. “Just drop it. I don’t want to get into it right now.”

Dipper and Mabel shared a concerned glance but didn’t say anything else. Amnesia. It made a lot of sense. It was stupidly obvious, in hindsight, and he wanted to kick himself for not figuring it out earlier. Given enough time, would Bill forget everything from before he was human?

 _Would that really be so terrible?_ a small voice whispered. _Bill was nothing but a menace before._

Dipper shook his head, but couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. _Not the point. Bill’s upset._ Memories didn’t work that way anyway, right?

They were nearing the first shard piece’s location. Outside the town, along the main road, beams of lights were illuminating the darkening sky and he could hear the echoes of a crowd. A large, striped tent rose over the treetops and the screams of the crowd grew louder.

 _A circus_ , he thought, a smile twitching his mouth. It was the first positive thing he’s seen since arriving in this alternate reality. The tent was massive and well-kept, balloons and streamers decorating its exterior. The entrance was marked by a large open flap and a bored looking usher

“You’re sure it’s in there?” Dipper asked, turning to Bill, who nodded.

“Maybe they’re still selling tickets,” Mabel said, moving forward before Dipper could stop her. Did this world even accept the same kind of cash anyway? They might use coconuts as currency for all they knew.

Mabel approached the usher with a smile and a wave. “Heya. We’re not too late for the show are we?”

The young man barely glanced up from his phone before saying, “We’re sold out for tonight’s showing—” He blinked, did a double take, looking at Mabel more closely and then abruptly straightening his back. “Um. No, of course not. Go right on in.”

Mabel looked confused but smiled nonetheless as she entered the tent. Dipper glanced at Bill in the corner of his eyes. He wasn’t alone in thinking the exchange was just a bit strange, right? Bill just shrugged.

The noise was deafening on the inside of the tent. Dancers in beautiful costumes all swirled around one another in a cluster to an orchestra of musicians. There was a performer high above the crowd swinging and twisting in cloth. It was all dazzlingly elaborate and reminded him of the events the Northwests would hold in their mansion.

“Is that an elephant?” Mabel said, shouting over the crowd. Dipper frowned, scanning the gaggle of spinning, leaping gymnasts until his eyes landed on, yes, something resembling an elephant. There were too many ruffles to be sure. 

The act was winding to a close as the performers all gathered together and bowed. The audience was spitting foam in excitement; it must have been a fantastic show. Shame they missed it.

“Bill, where are we going?” Dipper shouted over the noise.

“Nearby. Follow me.” Bill began elbowing his way through the masses. Dipper grabbed onto his sleeve, Mabel close behind him. They bullied their way through the crowd with Dipper focused on keeping everyone together.

The announcer continued to boom over the speakers. He was starting to get a headache. The crowd was getting worse. The performers were still bowing. They must have been a family judging by their …

 _Red hair_.

Dipper stopped in his tracks, earning a loud whine from Bill and a surprised squeak from Mabel. He blinked, hoping the image would dispel, but now that he’s made the connection he couldn’t toss it out. “Is that-? Mabel, that’s _Wendy._ ”

“What? Where?” Mabel scanned the crowd and Dipper had to point to the center of the ring where Wendy stood, waving and holding the up the roses the crowd at tossed her way. Mabel’s jaw dropped. “Holy crap. She’s wearing _tights_.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Dipper mumbled to himself. _Makeup, too_. Their Wendy wouldn’t look twice at that kind of stuff, only wearing it to humor Mabel during a sleepover. The differences weren’t just physical. Normal Wendy also got stage fright and hated being the center of attention. This Wendy was positively radiant, smiling and waving and, God, _blowing kisses_. She was lapping it up.

She looked … _really_ good.

Bill made a noise of disgust. “Who _cares?_ ” His lips had tightened with a hint of a bitter sneer.

 “I- Well, it’s just kind of, uh, surprising—”

Bill rolled his eye and grabbed Dipper’s sleeve, moving through the crowd with more aggression than before, almost leaving Mabel behind. They reached a quieter spot and were stopped by an _Employees Only_ rope. “It’s somewhere over here. That’s about as specific as I can get.”

“You did great,” Mabel said. “Let’s split up. Can’t be too many broken mirror shards around here, right?”

They went into different directions. Bill still looked sour as he left. Did seeing the mirror Wendy bother him that much? He’d have to ask later. He kept his eyes peeled for the shard. Nobody stopped him or asked if he was even supposed to be there, too consumed by the chaos of the circus.

Soon he reached a communal dressing room. A few other people were they but they barely glanced his way. A handful of vanities stood on one side of the room and on the other rested a handful of cheap, boxy TVs, each playing a different video of the circus. He recognized the uniforms. As he scanned the room, his curiosity bested him and he approached the television.

God. Was that Manly Dan in a _leotard?_ Dipper hid a smile behind his hand. Mirror Wendy was performing on the monitor just to the left, swinging through the air on trapezes. She flipped and spun with confidence that spoke of years and years of practice. Their Wendy was impressive in her own, aggressive way (he’ll never forget the time she took down a fully grown werewolf), but this Wendy embodied a certain grace to her, as if she could dance on his head without losing balance. He wishes he could have watched the show in person.

Distracted by the TVs, he didn’t notice the dark shape surging towards him until something pinched his side hard enough to bruise. Dipper choked on a shriek and batted the hand away, rounding on a disgruntled looking Bill.

“What the _hell?_ ”

“I’m sorry, Pine Tree,” said Bill demurely, “you just looked like you were about to drown the town with your sweat and drool so I had to take preemptive measures.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You—” Bill glanced at the televisions and gave up in a huff. “Just stay on task, would you?”

Dipper huffed but turned away from the television, Bill trailing behind him. As he reached for the curtain, it was drawn back and the mirror Wendy stepped inside. Dipper froze and he heard Bill hiss behind him. _Dammit!_

She paused and looked at them with wide, blue eyes, a single eyebrow raised. A small smile curled her painted lips. “Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be in here.”

“W—” Dipper coughed. “We were just leaving.”

“No, it’s, ah,” she glanced towards Bill for a moment before settling on Dipper again, her smile growing wider, “fine. What did you think about the show? I like feedback.” She moved towards the vanity and sat down, removing the frills from around her shoulders and taking apart her headpiece.

“Good! Good, uh,” Dipper was torn between his needs to duck out of the conversation and curiosity about this flashy version of the Wendy he knew. “You’re really talented. How long have you been doing this?”

Bill sighed at his shoulder, something Wendy didn’t notice or ignored. “Thanks; I’ve been performing since I was a little kid. It’s kind of the family business, you know.”

“That’s cool. It’s crazy some of those flips you can do.”

She turned fully towards him, gaze heavy as she scanned him head to toe. “Have I seen you somewhere before? You look familiar.”

Shit. Not good. Who knows what his mirror version was up to in this world? He tried to chuckle without sounding too nervous. “I’m actually from out of town.”

“Oh? How long are you here?”

“Um. Not long. M-maybe a day or two, depending on the, ah, weather.”

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Tyrone. This is …” he glanced towards Bill. “Bob.” Bill glared.

“Well, Tyrone, we’re going to be performing here for the next few days. I hope we can hang out a bit more if you’re interested.”

Dipper swallowed, her eyes suddenly seeming _too_ heavy. Embarrassment heated up his face. “A-actually—”

“Have you seen any broken glass around here?” Bill snapped and Dipper flinched. He hadn’t realized how far he’d been leaning forward. Wendy blinked, eyes flicking between them as if waiting for an explanation.

“No? I mean, we kind of make a point around here to keep injuries to a minimum. Would be kind of counter-productive to have that lying around.” She narrowed her eyes, any traces of earlier heat gone. “Are you guys some kind of inspectors or something?”

Dipper struggled to think of something, but like a godsend, Mabel flew into the room with a happy screech. She was holding the shard with sweater sleeves pulled over her hands.

“One down,” she said, flashing a wide smile as she stuffed the shard into the picnic basket. He quickly smiled back before turning back to Wendy, readying some excuse so that they could leave without raising too many questions. The words died on his lips when he saw Wendy’s horrified expression.

“M-Madam Pines!” She leaped out of her chair as if burned. “I-I didn’t realize you would be attending tonight’s show.”

Silence fell across the dressing room. Everyone as watching them now.

Mabel frowned. “What?”

“I’m sorry, w-we would have made accommodations for you,” Wendy continued, her face pale. Her eyes swiveled towards Dipper and she became even more panicked. “Y-you, then you must be—” To his horror, she threw herself on the floor in a kowtow. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, please, I didn’t mean you or your sister any disrespect.”

Frantic whispers broke out amongst the crowd and Dipper saw fear on all of them. They flinched when he made eye contact. “W-we’re not who you think—”

Without warning, Wendy’s eyes fluttered shut and she slumped over onto her side. The room was filled with crashing and banging as everyone fell onto the floor. Dipper’s terror was waylaid only by Bill’s hand crushing his arm.

“Go, go, go, _go, go, go_ ,” he hissed, shoving the two of them out of the dressing room. Outside, people continued milling about, unaware that anything had happened.

“Bill, was that you?” Mabel whispered. Bill nodded without answering. Before they exited the tent, he snatched up a nearby cloth and sunglasses, shoving them into Mabel’s hands.

“It’ll only last for a few seconds, hopefully they won’t remember anything when they wake up. If they do, well, we were on our way out of this rotten dimension anyway. Star, put these on.”

They made it outside the tent and a blast of cool air helped to calm him down, if only just. The night seemed even darker after the extravagance of the circus. He blinked several times to adjust his eyes.  Mabel wrapped the cloth around her hair and, after a moment’s deliberation, popped the lenses out of the glasses before putting them on.

Bill shrugged. “It’s enough.”

“What was _up_ with those guys?” Dipper asked.

“Seems like your other selves have a bit of a reputation around here,” Bill said, his tone reflecting nothing of the horror Dipper felt. If anything, he looked rather envious. “Especially Star. That tramp recognized her immediately.”

 _Tramp?_ Dipper frowned a bit but refrained from commenting.

“Where do we go next?” Mabel whispered, a small tremor in her voice. Bill snatched the map out of his back pocket, unfurling and staring at it for a moment before pointing to another small red X.

“Junkyard,” Dipper mumbled. “Come on, let’s pick up the pace.”

…

The closer they got to the junkyard, the more the town started to thin out. The decrepit buildings were slowly replaced by barren trees and despite the depressing nature of the forest, Dipper felt like he could breathe easier. Better to be trapped in a dead forest than his dead town.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get the image of Manly Dan in a leotard out of my mind,” Mabel said a little while later in a bid to lighten the mood. Dipper shrugged.

“Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Could’ve been Grunkle Stan in a leotard instead.”

A weak smile flickered onto her face. “Yeah. I guess.” She sighed. “At least the Corduroy’s looked happy, right? I was beginning to think this world had no redeeming qualities.”

How happy could they really be when the sight of him and Mabel had sent them into a panic? He had his doubts, was all. “Looked like a good show.”

“Not really,” said Bill. “We can go to a better circus in our own world when we get back.”

 _Jealous?_ Dipper thought, unprompted, and flushed. Doubtless, Bill was just being his typical churlish self, but he couldn’t deny he liked the thought of Bill being jealous of the mirror Wendy and her flirting. _Ah. Best not to think about that._

The junkyard came into view. No fence, which made things blessedly easier. Finding a shard of glass in there was going to be difficult enough, as is. Like trying to find a needle in a haystack of more needles. Or, more accurately, a glass shard in a junkyard full of glass shards.

Next to him, Bill swore under his breath. “This isn’t how I wanted to spend my day off,” he mumbled, approaching a large mountain of junk. “There was even a new episode of _Minced_ on tonight. But no, let’s sort through garbage instead.”

Dipper scrunched up his nose. “What, that show where the chefs cook in ball pits and attack each other with rotten fish?”

“Quality TV,” Bill said, wistfully.

“Don’t worry, I have it recorded,” Mabel said, and a weak smile flickered onto Bill’s face. As he reached down to push the trash aside, a dark shape emerged from the pile and swatted at Bill with a screech. Bill yelped and backpedaled so fast he slipped and fell. Dipper was on his knees in a flash, hands on Bill’s shoulders.

Mabel snatched up a broken pipe. “What the hell was _that?_ ”

“You okay?” Dipper asked. Bill nodded, scrambling deeper into Dipper’s arms, eye firmly on the pile where the mysterious creature had vanished.

“That was way too big to be a rat,” Mabel said. “Too small for a mountain lion, though.”

“It looked, it looked like,” Bill stammered, and he gulped.

The dark shape appeared at the top of the junk pile, holding a glass bottle in its hand. It was a person, too filthy to be recognized immediately. Before Dipper could try and place the vaguely familiar facial features in his head, the creature spoke.

“Get _out_ ,” said Pacifica, throwing the bottle at them. Dipper held Bill closer to him, but it crashed several feet away from them. What terrible aim. “You’re on private property!”

Mabel recovered far more quickly than Dipper did, snapping, “You can’t own a junkyard, it’s government property.”

Pacifica snarled, chucking a soda can which Mabel batted away with her pipe. “I _live_ here. I have a friend in the police and he’ll kill you if you don’t scram!”

“Listen, you little gremlin,” Bill snapped, rising to his feet and dusting himself. “It’s funny trying to see the likes of _you_ try to intimidate us, but—” Another can whacked him in the face and he cupped his nose with a yelp. Not such terrible aim after all.

“ _Buzz off_ ,” Pacifica said.

Dipper reached to see Bill’s face. “Bill, are you—?”

Bill shook him off and grabbed Mabel’s pipe, scrambling up the junk pile. Pacifica squealed and ducked away on the other side. “ _Hey_ ,” Bill screamed, slipping his way after her. “Get back here so I can bash your face in, you piece of trash.”

Dipper massaged the bridge of his nose, reigning in his exasperation. “Bill, we don’t have time to pick fights with hobos.”

“ _Mind your own business_ , Pine Tree.”

“Let’s just start looking for the shard,” said Mabel. “He can tire himself out if we wants.”

“I’m not going to carry him,” Dipper said, fully aware that the task of carrying Bill usually fell on him anyway.

He shot Bill one last concerned glance before beginning to comb through the junkyard. The occasional noise from the fight would float over towards them. This version of Pacifica didn’t look particularly healthy, so he probably didn’t need to worry. Not that Bill was the model of fitness either. Still. At least he had a pipe.

They didn’t get very far in their searching before another figure began approaching them. A pair of them. Dipper reached for a broken bottle but before he could grab it one of the figures said softly, “Hello?”

The two figures ventured further into the clearing. Mabel whispered frantically, “Mr. and Mrs. Northwest.”

It took him even longer to recognize them, seeing as how their faces were far less familiar to him than Pacifica’s. Still, it was undeniable, even in their ratty clothes and dirty faces. The air of smugness the Northwest parents usually carried with them were gone. Instead was diminutive curiosity. Behind them was a sort of tent with a fire pit in the middle.

“We’re not here to cause any trouble,” Dipper said.

“There’s no need to fuss, darlin’,” said Mrs. Northwest, smiling warmly. Mabel quietly mouthed, ‘ _darlin?_ ’ but it thankfully went unnoticed. “You’re looking for something?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t happen to have seen a broken mirror around, would you?”

The two shot each other an odd look. “Why, yes, actually,” said Mr. Northwest. “It was the strangest thing. Not an hour ago, Paz said she saw a piece of a mirror just _appear_. Right in front of her! Oh, where did she put it …” He raised his voice, “Paz, sweetheart! Could you come over here?”

There was a loud clanging sound and then Pacifica came scurrying into view, holding Bill’s broken pipe. Her eyes were cold. “ _What?_ ”

“Could you bring us that curious bit of glass you saw this afternoon?” asked Mrs. Northwest demurely. “These people are looking for it.”

“Why should I give it to them?” she snapped. “It’s mine.”

“Like _hell_ it is,” Bill snapped, stumbling into view. His hair was matted with filth and he was sweating and out of breath. Dipper reached out and grabbed his arm before he could go any further. “That mirror belongs to us.”

“Paz, dear, could you please give these nice people back their mirror piece?” said Mr. Northwest. “Daddy will make you your favorite banana peel broth tomorrow night if you do.”

Pacifica grumbled under her breath, but rolled her eyes and made her way underneath the tent. Bill mumbled, ‘ _you’d better run_ ’ under his breath, earning a squeeze from Dipper. She returned with a bundled blanket in her arm, a piece of glass peeking out from it.

“There you go,” said Mrs. Northwest and Pacifica handed the blanket to Mabel. Mabel tucked the shard into the picnic basket, giving the cloth back. Pacifica hissed, scurrying away, and Dipper had to tighten his grip on Bill’s arm to keep him from chasing her.

“Thank you,” Mabel said. “Hey, um. How long have you been living here, then?”

“Here? In the junkyard?” Mrs. Northwest tapped her chin. “Oh, I’d say about three years. We used to live in that old town nearby, had a nice little refrigerator box and everything, but, well, times have changed.”

“Do you happen to know anything about, uh, the Pines twins? F-Father Pines’ kids?”

A dark look crossed their faces though they quickly tried to conceal it. “O-oh, the Pines twins,” she said. “Such lovely children, really. Such … ambition.”

“Madam Pines is quite the mogul,” said Mr. Northwest. “Built herself up from practically nothing. Why, h-her factories and crystal mines are what put this town on the map. Everyone got to work, even … even if—” He cut himself off with a small cough from his wife. He cleared his throat. “Wasn’t long before she went global and now her business does a bit of everything. Oil, clothing, entertainment, you name it. All in just a few short years.”

“Wwe’re lucky to have them operating so close.”

“So they live nearby?” Mabel asked. Mrs. Northwest nodded.

“Yes, they live in a mansion just outside of town. It’s lovely.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” Mabel mumbled, earning a side-eye from Dipper.

“We should get going,” he said.

“Dipper—” Their eyes met before Mabel huffed and said, “Fine. Yeah, okay. Thank you for your help.”

“It’s no trouble,” said Mr. Northwest, relieved the interrogation was over. “Feel free to stop by if you need any help.”

“Or don’t,” Pacifica mumbled. Bill readied to attack her again, but Dipper began leading them away.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” he said. It took some force but eventually he was able to tug Bill away. Mabel didn’t move, eyes trained to the ground. Did she not hear him? He was about to poke her, but then she blinked and trotted after them. Weird. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Mabel said quickly. He would have pressed but just then Bill scoffed at Pacifica.

“You got lucky, Blondie,” he said. “Don’t think that—”

A tire lever smacked him square in the nose. He roared, lunging forward. Dipper lifted him into the air and carried him out of the junkyard. “ _Pine Tree,_ let _go_ —”

“You’ve had enough of acting like a moron for one day,” said Dipper, depositing him when they were back in the forest. Bill snorted, but he didn’t go dashing back inside to pick a fight. “Just focus, alright? When we get back, you can call Pacifica and yell at each other all day.”

“It’s not the _same_. I finally have a leg up on her stupid face. When will I ever have an opportunity like this again?”

Dipper cupped Bill’s face between his hands with a light _smack_. “ _Fo-cus_.”

Snarling, Bill shook him off, taking the map out of his pocket. “The museum’s up next.”

“Maybe we’ll learn a thing or two on how the town went to the dogs,” Mabel mumbled as they made their way down the forest trail. By now, the sun had set completely, a waning moon hanging in the sky. They stayed just on the outskirts of the town, the forest path illuminated by the nearby street lamps.

The museum came into view. _Gravity Falls’ Museum of Natural Exceptionalities._ It was closed.

_Perfect._

“Now what do we do?” Dipper said.

“We could just skip this one and come back when it opens in the morning?” said Mabel.

“There’s no way I’m staying in this trash heap of a town for an entire day,” Bill said. “There has to be a way inside.”

There was a sign on the glass door. Mabel read, “If you notice something suspicious, don't hesitate to call 503-555-5565. Oh! _We’re_ something suspicious. I think I have an idea.” She pulled out her phone and held it to her ear.

“ _Mabel_ ,” Dipper said, only to be waved away. Dipper and Bill crowded close to the receiver, trying to listen in.

“ _Hello?_ ” a voice said.

“Hi, this is Debby from maintenance,” Mabel said, her voice nasally. “I’m here to perform a security system check but for some reason, the lock isn’t registering my keycard. Could you unlock the door, please?”

“ _We weren't informed of any security systems check._ ”

“I don't know what to tell you. I'm scheduled for tonight. Got the time and place written right here. If you speak with your higher ups, I’m sure they’ll clear this all up.”  
  
“ _We're third shift security, miss_ ,” said the voice. “ _Our higher ups are asleep. Ah, fuck, whatever. Go ahead_.” As he went to hang up the phone, he said, barely audibly, “ _Lazy assholes can't even be bothered to fu—_ ”

The phone clicked and the glass door buzzed loudly, the electronic lock moving out of place. Bill nudged Mabel with his arm, lips curled up. “Good thinking, Star.”

“I do my best,” said Mabel. She pulled the door open and when no alarm sounded, the three of them swarmed inside.

“Got any idea where to look first?” Dipper asked Bill, peering into the darkness of the museum. Only a few low-level lights were on. In the center of the main lobby stood a giant bronze statue of a muscular man flexing, standing over a dead Pegasus. _What an eyesore._

“None whatsoever,” Bill said. “We should split up.”

“Split up in a dark museum?” said Mabel. “Do you even remember what happened in _Night of the Haunt?_ ”

Bill rolled his eyes. “Splitting up is a bad idea when the killer just has a knife, but a great one if the killer has a grenade. You humans love your assumptions and your heuristics, but you gotta take this stuff on a case-by-case basis. There's no golden rule.”

“Let’s just stick together for now,” said Dipper. “We don’t know if anyone else is in here, after all.”

In the hallway, only a single fluorescent light bulb dotted every few yards, leaving yawning patches of darkness in between them. It leant to the spooky atmosphere of a closed museum, made all the worse by the conversation about stalking murderers. Dipper resisted the urge to glance over his shoulder.

They reached one of the exhibition rooms. It was filled to the brim with statues. He couldn’t stretch out his elbows without bumping into something. There were a lot of paintings, too; he could barely see the wall underneath.

“This place is creeping me out,” he whispered, glaring into the darkness. He would’ve used his phone as a flashlight if he didn’t have to worry about the battery.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Mabel said. “I’m getting seriously claustrophobic.”

They filtered out into the room. Bill moved towards one of the statues, head tilting to the side. He made a commiserating sound in his throat.

“Hey, isn’t this that jackass mermaid king?”

“Mermando?” Mabel asked, looking up. She made a choking sound, hands flying to her mouth. “ _Jesus Christ._ ”

When Dipper spotted the statue, his insides went cold. Mermando was in a defensive position, a trident in his hands, looking petrified. Was it possibly just a good replica? _No_ , he knew an embalmed corpse when he saw one. Looking at it became too much and he tore his eyes away.

Horrified, he began recognizing the other statues. The gnomes. Manotaurs. The perytons. _Multi-Bear._ Nausea rose in his stomach and he squeezed his dampening eyes shut.

“Hey, whoa, don’t lose your breakfast now, kids; we don’t know when our next meal is coming.”

Dipper opened his eyes. Bill’s voice sounded casual, but a crease had formed between his eyebrows. This was just his weird way of being comforting, right? Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhaled, hoping he was just imagining the scent of death. “I’m. I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Mabel was shaking out her hands, her eyes squeezed shut, whispering, “Fine. Everything’s _fine._ You got a letter from Mermando just last week. Fine. It’s all fine.” Her voice became strangled. “Who would _do_ something like this?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bill muttered to himself.

“Hello?”

The unfamiliar voice made them jump. Someone was standing at the other end of the room. “Who’s there? The museum is closed.”

“W-we were just—”

At the sound of Mabel’s voice, there was a sharp gasp. The person stepped under one of the lights. He was a brunette teenager about as tall as Dipper. Something about him was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place the paling face in his mind. The boy wouldn’t meet their eyes.

“I’m terribly sorry, Madam, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Mabel made an exasperated noise, yanking the cloth and sunglasses off her head. “I’m. I’m not who you think I am, okay? None of this _Madam Pines_ crap.” The boy gulped and lightly shook his head, still not meeting their eyes.

“P-please don’t mind me, I promise I won’t get in your way.”

“Hey. _Hey_ , you can look at me, it’s okay.” She glanced at the boy’s nametag and she whispered softly, unbelievingly, “ _Gideon_.”

Gideon? _Gideon?_ Dipper stared at the boy with a new, appraising eye. He hadn’t seen their version of Gideon Gleeful in years. Even if he had seen him more recently, they still had almost nothing in common physically. Their Gideon never broke five feet. _Guess being a hell spawn does crap for growth hormones._

Mabel recovered. “Gideon, we’re not the Mabel and Dipper you know, you know? We’re from, and I know this is going to sound crazy, but we’re from some kind of parallel dimension. We’re trying to find a way back home.”

The mirror Gideon just gulped, meekly sweeping his small patch of tile. “A-anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Mabel threw Dipper an exasperated glance, to which he just shrugged.

“We’re looking for a mirror shard,” she said. “They’ve been showing up all over town and we think one’s nearby. Have you seen any?”

“What, a piece of broken glass?” Gideon said, scratching his chin. “N-no, I wouldn’t’ve left that just lying around. Would y-you like me to help you look?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Dipper said. “Alright. Bill, check down that hallway and see if you can’t find it. I’ll head back to the lounge and give it a closer look. Mabel—”

“I’ll keep looking with Gideon in this room,” she said. Dipper nodded. The four of them broke and he went back to the room with the terrifying Adonis statue.

It didn’t take long to sweep the area from top to bottom. He upended the vases and tore apart the seat cushions but found nothing. With the entrance hall checked off, he ran back to the exhibition room to help Mabel or Bill. He could hear voices at the end of the hall and paused when he heard the words,

“—isn’t safe to talk about those things.”

“I’m just asking for a quick history lesson,” said Mabel. “Public knowledge, right? C’mon, help out a local dimension jumper.”

 _God, what is Mabel getting up to?_ Despite himself, he stayed in the shadows.

It was quiet, and then Gideon asked, “You’re really from another dimension? A parallel one?”

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, but your dimension blows chunks in comparison.”

There was a soft, barely-there chuckle. “I don’t doubt you.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. Well. I guess telling you the public stuff wouldn’t hurt. Madam P-Pines is in charge of one of the world’s leading companies, _Shooting Star Industries_ —”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a mogul, she’s a star, she’s a business genius, _blah blah blah_ , but what did they do to the _town?_ Why is everyone so scared of me and Dipper?”

“Dipper?”

“Dipper. My brother? People have had heart attacks when they saw us.”

“Madam Pines has a, ah, very commanding presence. She was only 16 years old when she set up her first factory just out of town. Soon it was the only place the town could get work, and leaving Gravity Falls wasn’t encouraged. She had technology no one has ever seen before. It wasn’t long before she went national and then global. No one else could keep up with her.”

“So why has the town gone to shit? Why are people so terrified to even talk about her?”

“Well. There are. Rumors. About how Madam Pines deals with people who, uh, hinder her.” Gideon became increasingly uncomfortable, twisting his broom in his hands. “I don’t think I should—”

“ _Please_ , Gideon. I just want to help.” He didn’t answer. “Look, if mirror Mabel is as bad as I think she is and I’m her mirror, that means I’m the good version, right?”

“It could be a trick,” Gideon mumbled. No one said anything for a long time and Dipper thought he might have to enter the room, but then Gideon continued, “A long time ago, she caught some sort of demon who spies for her. If people are acting in some way she doesn’t like, she sends her crazy brother to deal with them. If someone’s acting in a way she _really_ doesn’t like she uses,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “ _magic._ ”

“Magic?”

“Witchcraft or whatever it is she got from her great uncle’s old journal. That Corduroy girl says she saw Madam Pines turn someone inside out once. I saw her put some kind of hole in the ground that whisked my ma away. I never saw her again.” Gideon’s whole body was trembling now. “We have nowhere else to go. The townsfolk are scared out of their minds of her and her brother, but we have no way of protecting ourselves …”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Mabel said, gently touching his arm. “It’s okay. I’m sorry to wring that out of you. I’m going to-”

“ _FOUND IT_.”

Dipper jumped as Bill’s high voice pierced through the room. He peeked around the corner to see Bill holding the shard in the folds of his jacket.

“Let’s get out of here,” Bill said. “As much as I appreciate the macabre glamor of this museum, we’ve got places to be.”

“Nice work, Bill,” said Mabel. “I’m right behind you.”

Bill spotted Dipper lurking in the corner and Bill grinned. “We’re halfway there. I think we’re making record time.”

Dipper lifted a brow as he unzipped the picnic bag for Bill to deposit the shard. “What kind of record is that?”

“Oh, come on, I’m sure we’re not the first to break a mirror and get lost in some dark version of our own dimension. Heck, I’m sure even Sixer has a few good stories, and I’m sure we’re blowing _his_ time out of the water, at least.”

“You know, I think he did talk about meeting his evil twin at some point,” Dipper said, leading them out of the exhibition room. “He said it had extra arms and eyeballs but it was definitely his evil twin.”

“Think I know where that is. Boring as Hell.”

Dipper was going to ask what made it so boring but, just as they reached the entrance doors, he saw Mabel jogging towards them at the other end of the hallway.

“Sorry about that,” she panted, hands on their shoulders as she ushered them out of the museum. She seemed oddly flustered, though Dipper couldn’t figure out why.

“What were you doing in there?”

“Oh, just. Um. Getting Gideon’s phone number.”

Oh. _Oh_. “Uh, Mabel? This Gideon isn’t mean or bad looking or anything, but are you sure now is the best time?"

“What? No, that’s not- I mean… ok, fine, you’re right.”

Dipper eyed her for a moment longer, but she seemed content to drop the issue.

They cut through the heart of the town on their way to the next shard location. More people began dotting the streets, huddled together around fires and chatting in low voices. Dipper envied their big coats, the chill biting into his fingers and the tips of his ears. An image of Bill chivalrously offering him his hoodie struck him and a little smile quirked his lips. _As if._

Eventually, the vagrants stopped showing up and they were alone as they approached an old construction site. The next shard piece was nearby. Dipper pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight.

“Mind your batteries,” said Dipper as Bill and Mabel did the same. “I think we should head back to the church once we find this one. All the rest are out of town. It’s too dark to look for them.”

“ _Pine Tree_ ,” Bill whined.

“We could use some rest anyway and besides, you’re getting hungry.”

Bill grumbled but didn’t argue. They fanned out to look for the shard, careful to avoid any dangerous machinery or nails on the ground. Bill thought he saw something on the floor underneath a stack of wooden planks but when he tried to free it, the stack almost collapsed on top of him. It ended up just being a broken bottle of wine.

Dipper eventually found the shard at the edge of the construction site. He tucked it away in the picnic bag and lead the group down the street. “Maybe they still have the same shows here and you’ll get to watch that new episode after all.”

“Maybe,” Bill said. “Oh, alternate reality television does sound like it could be fun. I wonder what the mirror version of _Don’t Touch That Bear Trap_ is.”

Mabel snorted. “Well, I can always count on cable being terrible, no matter what dimension we’re in.”

At first, Dipper didn’t really pay the sound much attention. Then, as it started getting louder, he perked up. It was the sound of wheels coasting over fresh pavement, then metal grinding on metal. It was a person riding a skateboard, and they were getting closer. He spotted him a moment later and he froze. The person on the skateboard was a boy wearing a red jacket with his hair slicked back and a deep tan. It was difficult to see in the dark, but the big dipper birthmark on the boy’s forehead was unmistakable.

“Hey there,” said the mirror Dipper, braking a few feet away. Mabel gasped. Dipper clutched Bill’s arm and angled him away. “Wow, you guys just made my job a whole lot easier, you have no idea.”

He picked up his board and began walking towards them with a relaxed smile. When he got too close, Mabel surged forward, holding a hand out. His eyes lit up.

“ _Oh_ , you’ve got spunk. I like you.” He glanced up and down her body. “Cute, too.”

A shudder ran through her. “Ugh, don’t make me puke. What do you want?”

“Those mirror piece thingies. My sister wants them for some reason. I wasn’t really paying attention; I’ve been tuning her out for years.”

He wanted _the shards?_ Why? What exactly did they plan to do with them? Nothing good, he knew that much, which was enough for him. He said to Bill in a whisper, “Can’t you knock him out?”

“I’m trying.”

“What? _Trying?_ ”

Bill couldn’t elaborate because as the mirror Dipper made a grab for the picnic basket, Mabel threw a solid punch which _cracked_ over his jaw. He choked and stumbled away, dropping the board and holding his mouth. Mabel shook out her hand, wincing.

“ _Shit_ ,” he said. “Ah. That’s definitely going to bruise. _Fuck._ ” A wide smile graced his face. “That was a pretty good punch. You fight?”

Mabel didn’t say anything, shoulders tense and her hand shaking a bit. Back before Stan retired, the two had spent a lot of time boxing, but it had been years since then and Dipper doubted she practiced much other than her casual exercise routine. But mirror Dipper was already taking off his jacket. The mirror Dipper had thick arms. He even appeared to be a few inches taller now that he was really looking. Dipper’s blood boiled.

“We could just run away,” Mabel said.

“Hmmm, I guess. You won’t get very far. Especially not _him_ ,” He pointed to Bill. Dipper pushed him further behind his back, “not on those legs. Or you can humor me. Just a little bit. C’mon.”

Slowly, Mabel lowered herself into a fighting stance.

“Boxing, then?” He mirrored her pose, lightly bouncing on his feet. “More of a judo guy myself, but this is fine.”

“ _Mabel_.” Dipper placed a hand on her arm. “I can’t let you fight that creep on your own.”

“Hey, back off, string bean,” said the mirror Dipper.

Dipper bristled. “You don’t know who you’re messing with, meathead.”

“Dipper, it’s fine,” said Mabel, and then added in a low voice, “I’ll keep him distracted. Jump him when he isn’t paying attention.”

He touched the switchblade in his back pocket. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was the only one they had, especially since Bill’s mind powers seemed to be somehow blocked. “Be careful.”

Mabel walked them towards the center of the street, where they resumed their stances. Mabel’s frame was stiff while mirror Dipper just kept smiling.

“So, _Dipper?_ ” he asked. “Because of the forehead thing, right? Not bad, I might use that. Maybe _Big D._ ”

She swung at his face, which he dodged. She took another and another, pressing forward until he cracked his fist across her eye. Dipper’s throat clenched as she yelped and backed off.

“You’ve got some good power,” said mirror Dipper, dodging another strike, “but your technique could use some work. You should try—” She landed a solid uppercut to his chin and he tumbled back. His eyes were sparkling as he rubbed his jaw. “ _WHOO!_ That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t need tips from a jerk like you,” Mabel said darkly. A grin twisted the mirror Dipper’s lips and he fell silent.

They continued exchanging blows. Dipper put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Why can’t you just knock him out?”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Bill said again. A bead of sweat dribbled down his temple. “There's something guarding his mind. Kind of like Ford’s metal plate but more refined. I can’t do anything.”

Dipper squeezed his shoulder, signaling him to stay put before he pulled the knife out of his pocket. He circled around the fighters as subtly as he could, hoping the darkness would hide him.

As the fight wore it, it became clear it was a mismatch. His sister could make paste out of the average person and then some, but this alternate Dipper wasn’t average. He ruthlessly pressed his advantage, picking away at Mabel’s defense. It wasn’t long before she started faltering. Dipper shook with rage, struggling to keep himself from jumping into the middle of it and making things worse.

Finally, the mirror Dipper landed a solid hit right between Mabel’s ribs, knocking the breath out of her. She doubled over, gasping. The mirror Dipper relaxed and Dipper saw his chance. He popped open the knife and charged, aiming for the base of the neck.

The mirror Dipper turned and snatched Dipper’s wrist. Dipper choked on a gasp and tried to pull away but the mirror Dipper twisted his hand and snapped his wrist. A bolt of pain shot up his arm and he dropped the knife. He received a swift kick to the gut and was thrown back several feet, landing on his back and cracking his head on the pavement.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw the mirror Dipper looming over him, examining the knife in his hand. Mabel was on the ground, completely still. Terror flooded him. _Mabel. Jesus Christ, please be okay._ He thought he saw her chest move shallowly, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Plasma switchblade,” said mirror Dipper. “Nice. Can’t imagine how a twerp like you got your hands on it.”

“I know a guy,” said Dipper, cradling his possibly broken wrist. This was bad. He was unarmed and injured, possibly concussed, Mabel was out cold, Bill was … Bill—

_Bill!_

With a wooden plank in his hands, Bill was charging towards mirror Dipper. Dipper stopped breathing, paralyzed.

Bill swung, hollering his head off. Mirror Dipper, surprised, turned and grabbed the plank mid-swing and yanked it out of Bill’s hands. The color drained from Bill’s face but before he could run, the mirror Dipper cracked the plank across his head with a horrifying _snap_. Bill crumpled on the ground, unmoving.

“ _BILL!_ ”

The mirror Dipper chucked the plank at his head and Dipper flinched away. Mirror Dipper walked towards and stood over Bill’s limp form, using his foot to roll him onto his back and planting it on his chest. Bill groaned, to Dipper’s intense relief.

“So this is your version of that dork, huh?” said the mirror Dipper. A smile that chilled Dipper’s blood appeared on his face. “He’s cute. Cuter than our guy anyway, not that that’s saying much. You think I can borrow him for a bit?” He chewed his lower lip. “Wouldn’t be long. Just a few minutes …”

Hatred burned inside Dipper’s gut. He pushed himself onto his feet, biting back the urge to vomit, and blindly charged forward with all of his strength. Running into the mirror Dipper felt like running into a brick wall and he only succeeded pushing him off Bill. His vision went fuzzy and acid burned the back of his throat. 

“Wow, you’ve got a pretty thick skull, my guy,” said the mirror Dipper, before unceremoniously shoving Dipper to the ground next to Bill. Lights exploded under Dipper’s eyes and he struggled to stay conscious. “You’d actually make a pretty good fighter yourself if you weren’t so scrawny.” He moved forward, arm outstretched. Dimly, Dipper registered his cheap bracelet. The charm was a familiar looking pine tree. “Now, if you don’t mind …”

With a snarl, Dipper threw his upper body over Bill, holding him close. The mirror Dipper raised a brow, but Dipper wasn’t deterred, keeping fierce eye contact.

“Look, kid—”

Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a hip-hop ringtone. The mirror Dipper pulled out a phone and his expression soured. He answered the call and snapped, “ _What?_ ” He turned away, leaving Dipper curled protectively around Bill on the ground. “Oh, so the little twerp ratted on me? Couldn’t trust your—” He snapped his jaw closed as the voice on the other end ruthlessly talked over him. After a moment, he ducked his head, looking cowed. “I just wanted– Come _on_ , you never let me have any fun.” A pause, then he dramatically rolled his eyes, holding the phone away from his ear.

When Dipper was sure his doppelgänger was sufficiently distracted, he looked down at Bill. He gently cupped his face in his hands before threading his fingers through his hair, looking for injuries. Blood was gushing from the side of his head where the mirror Dipper struck him. There was so much blood.

Across from him, he heard a whimper. Mabel was slowly waking up, rubbing the back of her head, and Dipper released a long, deep breath. The relief was short-lived as the mirror Dipper ended his call. Dipper tightened his hold around Bill, but the mirror Dipper ignored them completely, grumbling under his breath as he picked up his jacket and his skateboard, putting the plasma switchblade in his pocket.

He then picked up the picnic basket with the shards and the third journal. Dipper could only watch, unable to tear himself from Bill’s side. Without another word or backward glance, the mirror Dipper rode off into the night, taking their only way home with him.

When he couldn’t hear the sounds of the skateboard anymore, Dipper dropped his head on the pavement, his forehead brushing Bill’s cheek.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this latest installment. I have an announcement regarding the special mentions section. Quite a few previous entries have changed their URLs, which renders previous links unusable. Since maintaining them is too impractical, from now on I'll be leaving a link to the #fanart tag on DBC's main tumblr page. Thank you to everyone who has participated, and I'll see you next update!
> 
> [DEFINING BILL CIPHER FANART!](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/tagged/fanart)
> 
> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


	17. Bill Cipher, the Magister Mentium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In order to recover the stolen shards, the trio must find a way to break into the Mirror Pines' manor.
> 
>  **Warning** : This chapter contains cut wrist imagery. Please proceed with caution.

Bill woke up, dizzy and sore. With a sinking feeling, he tried to remember what had happened. A mirror Dipper showed up and attacked them.

The picnic basket was gone.

As the twins helped him to his feet, Mabel asked, “You think we can call a cab to get us to the hospital?”

Dipper shook his head. “We don’t know what these hospitals are like, especially with those lunatics running everything. Let’s try to find a place to hide and maybe find a first aid kit.”

Further down the road, they found a crumbling, abandoned hotel. They snatched the master key from the front office and barricaded themselves in a room on the second floor. Mabel closed the curtains and Dipper helped Bill get settled on the bed.

“How are you feeling, Bill?” Dipper asked.                  

Bill curled up into a tight ball, keeping his hand wrapped around Dipper’s uninjured wrist. “Like I was just whacked in the face by a maniac.”

His glibness earned him a small, tight smile. “Maybe you can be a little more specific?”

“Well. Ah. Head hurts, guess that goes without saying. Everything’s a bit blurry. Feel like I’m gonna puke.” Even as he said it, acid welled up in the back of his throat.

Dipper gently shushed him as Mabel undressed one of the pillows and handed Bill the case.

“If you’re gonna throw up, do it in there,” she said. She then went to the second bed and began tearing up the sheets.  _Zwip. Zwip. Zwip._

Bill dry heaved nothing but slimy bile into the case. Fresh pain flared through his head and he slumped back, fighting his drooping eyelids.

_Zwip. Zwip. Zwip._

Soon, the bed dipped behind him and a hand touched his shoulder. Mabel offered a wad of bedsheets. Bill pressed it against his bleeding head, sinking into the mattress with a sigh. Dipper settled against the headboard as Mabel sat down on the other bed. She had tissue stuffed up her nose. Dipper had fashioned a splint with an old magazine and some linen. Wrinkles lined his forehead. He was projecting his stress so loudly Bill could almost hear it.

“Shut up,” he said, tugging on one of Dipper’s belt loops. Dipper frowned. “I can hear you thinking from here. Just shut that brain off for a few minutes, okay?”

Dipper’s face softened and warmth unfurled in Bill’s chest. It had been ages since Dipper looked at him like that.

The minutes passed. It could have only been 8 PM in their dimension but his body felt drained of energy. Twinges of occasional pain kept him from falling asleep.

“What do we do now?” Mabel asked, nasally.

Dipper sighed. “I don’t—”

Bill put his hand over Dipper’s mouth. “What did Ijust say about thinking too loud?” Before Dipper could get a word in, he continued, “That kid was in another league. In order to keep me out of his head like that, he’d need some kind of talisman and that’s not easy to come by. Until we can figure out what it is, I’m useless against them.”

They lapsed back into silence until Dipper said, “Was it the bracelet?”

“The bracelet?” Mabel asked.

“Yeah. That guy had a pine tree bracelet.”

Bill dragged his fingers across his lips. There had been a bracelet, though he hadn’t see the charm. “That’s dangerous magic. If that idiot has something like that, that must mean the other me must be somewhere nearby.”

Mabel raised a brow. "What? Why would you think that?"

“Those symbols are old and powerful but almost entirely forgotten. I had a special interest in them and, if I were to guess, the other me had the same idea. I bet you my taxidermy deer foal that Mirror Mabel has a shooting star talisman, too.”

“Gideon did say they had a demon spying for them.”

Bill froze. “Wait. Did either of you bring your wallets?”

Mabel shook her head while Dipper squirmed to pluck out his wallet. Bill opened it and fished out the single dollar bills. Hopefully, they haven’t given away anything too incriminating. He began ripping them up.

“Hey—”

“Oh hush, they’re just singles. It was an old power of mine. I could look through anything that had my insignia.” He tapped the Eye of Providence. “Think of it like a multifaceted peephole. He’ll have eyes everywhere.”

Running a hand through his hair, Dipper sighed. “As if we didn’t have enough reasons to be careful.”

Bill covered Dipper’s mouth again. “There you go thinking about stuff again.” Dipper glared back at him but the effect was a little dampened by his covered mouth.

“So, what do we do?” asked Mabel.

“Find out where those shards are going.” He would have to go into the Mindscape. Again. “I can’t get into that little idiot’s head but I can at least see where he went.”

"Mindscape? You sure you wanna do that?" Dipper asked.

Bill nodded and closed his eyes, trying to relax. He pushed himself out of his body, floating over the grayscale version of the motel. Dipper and Mabel’s ghostly images sat in silence. The expansive nothingness of the Mindscape settled around him and he swallowed again.

Finding Mirror Dipper was easy, like following a trail of golden breadcrumbs if they were doused with body spray. The trail led him to a big house on top of a mountain. The house looked familiar. Pacifica had lived here in their dimension, hadn’t she? The gate said ‘PINES’ and the whole place was covered with a dome-shaped force field.

Force field? That isn’t easy magic and one of that size could only be cast by a master sorcerer. How did these dimwits get their hands on such a powerful trick?

Mirror Dipper was there, messing with some scanner at the front of the gate; he pressed his index finger against it and winced. The gate opened as he stuck his finger in his mouth. At the front door, there was a brief flash of light and he began talking. Bill was too far away to hear anything. Was he talking to a guard?

The front door opened and Mirror Dipper was gone.

Bill flew around a bit longer, trying to uncover any other points of entry. Nothing notable popped up. This place was locked up tighter than an interdimensional prison. A prison would be easier to break into, honestly.

Suddenly, the front door opened again. Mirror Dipper walked out, fuming and angrily mumbling under his breath as he rode down the mountain on his skateboard. Bill’s heart jumped.

Mirror Dipper was out of the house.

This was their chance.

Bill sat up on the motel bed. Pain bloomed behind his eyes and he rubbed his temples with a groan.

“There was a force field around the house," Bill said. "I couldn’t get inside. They also have a bunch of scanners at the front. First one needs a blood sample but the second is just a guard.”

Dipper scoffed. “Oh, just a guard, huh? That it?”

“This is my plan,” Bill said. “I think we should try to disguise Pine Tree while the other one is out and grab the shards before he comes back.”

“What kind of a plan is that?”

“You two have the same DNA. You’ll be able to trick the blood sample gate. Then you’ll just need to bluster your way past the guard.”

“What about the force field?” Mabel asked.

“It’ll only be a problem if we use the Mindscape. Once I’m inside, though, I’ll be able to track the shards again.”

“Okay, but why me specifically?” said Dipper.

“The other Dipper isn’t in the house anymore and I don’t know where Mirror Mabel is or even what she looks like.”

“Yeah, because I look so much like that meathead.”

“Well, you have the same face and … here.” Bill pulled Dipper onto his feet and unbuttoned his flannel until he was just wearing his white undershirt. He licked his fingertips before running them through Dipper’s hair. No good; the curls refused to cooperate. “That kid had ocean’s worth of gel in his head. This is gonna be tricky. Over here.”

He gave him no time to protest before pulling him over to the sink. He wetted his hands and continued to try slicking back his hair. Dipper kept his eyes trained on the floor.

When Bill was satisfied, he pulled away. “There. That should do the trick.”

Dipper considered his reflection and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “Yes. Great. Now I just need to grow another three inches and muscles and get a fake tan. Perfect.”

“It’s not that bad."

“Say I miraculously pull this off and get into the house. How are we supposed to find the shards?”

“I’ll be able to sense them again once we get through the force field—”

“And how are you getting inside? The other Bill is still probably a triangle demon or whatever; there’s nothing to disguise you as.”

“I. Um. You could pretend to take me and Star prisoner—”

“No.”

“But—”

“And what would happen if Mirror Mabel is home and catches us? Even if she doesn’t immediately see through my disguise, she could want to throw you in some dungeon and have you guys tortured.”

“Then you could just take me.”

“ _No_ ,” Dipper said, horrified. “Why do you think I’d be more willing to do this if it’s just youin danger?”

“I— Because—” Bill looked down at his fingers. It wasn't like Bill could just say,  _I know you don't trust me and this is a way I can make things up to you._ Because that didn't sound emotionally manipulative or anything. When he looked back up, Dipper was frowning. 

“That's what I thought,” Dipper said. “We’re completely screwed, but that still doesn’t mean we should take more risks than we have to.”

Mabel huffed and flopped onto her back. "It's hopeless, then."

Bill brought his fingers to his lips. Dipper was the only one who could get inside the house, but Bill was the only one who neededto be inside the house. An idea was forming in the back of his head, but he didn’t like it. He  _really_ didn’t want to say it; there was a 50% chance Dipper would punch him the second it was out.

“Think of anything, Bill?” Dipper asked. Bill flinched a bit.

“What makes you think I’ve thought of anything?”

“You're chewing your nails.”

Crap. Since when was he so readable? “It’s, uh. It’s not a very-” He cleared his throat. “Well. If you’re the only one who can get into the house but I still need to be there to track the shards, then I could. You could let me …”

Dipper’s frown became severe. “What?”

“You could … let me take over your body.”

Goosebumps broke out on Dipper’s skin. “Are you—?” He compressed his lips. “Are you really suggesting that right now?

Bill swallowed, but slowly nodded. “Y-yeah.” Dipper couldn’t look more resistant if Bill was force-feeding him cyanide. “I can’t think of another way in.”

 _You can trust me_ , he wanted to say.  _I won’t mess this up. I promise._

Sucking in a harsh breath, Dipper backed away. “How do we even know the shards will work? That’s what you told us and we believed you. How do we know if you’re even right?”

Bill heard what he was really saying. He had to look away.

“You don’t,” he said after a while. “You just don’t. Even saying that could be a reverse psychology to trick you or something. And saying  _that_  could just be reverse-reverse psychology. There’s no end to it. So, you know what? You just don’t know if I can take you home. You’ll never know for sure.”

He hoped that everything they’ve been through the last few months counted for something.

Dipper backed up, rubbing his uninjured hand over his face. He turned to Mabel. She shrugged.

“It’s your call, bro.”

Quiet, deliberating silence. Dipper glared at his feet, eyes stormy. Every second that ticked past, Bill’s throat closed by tiny increments.

“Okay.” Dipper took another deep breath. “Okay, Bill. We’ll do things your way.”

Bill’s chest loosened. He had to quash the urge to hug Dipper. Instead, he mumbled, “Thank you.”

“We need to do this now before the other Dipper comes back,” Dipper said. “I’ll follow you in the Mindscape in case you need any backup or a lookout. Mabel, what do you want to do?”

“I think I’ll just make you more noticeable,” she said, running a finger over her chin. “I’ll stay here to watch Bill’s body.”

“Okay. Are you ready, Bill?” Dipper said.

Bill held out his hand. “When you are.”

There was a split-second hesitation before Dipper took his hand.

“Here’s the deal: I’ll let you borrow my body,” he said, “on the condition that you get all of us home safely.”

Power coursed through Bill's arm. “Deal.”

He closed his eyes and sunk back into the Mindscape. He could feel the familiar cool fire surrounding their joined hands. He tugged and a flash of light blinded him. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor. Shaking himself, he looked at his calloused, familiar-but-not hands. Trying his right wrist, he winced. Broken.

Dipper floated just above his head, arms wrapped around himself. “I’ve forgotten how awful this feels.”

“Di— Bill, are you okay?” Mabel asked. “You are Bill, right?”

“Got it in one, Star.”

She held out her hand and helped him to his feet. When he rose, an ache split through his head and he choked on a gasp, doubling over. It felt like something had grabbed him by both ends and was stretching him like taffy. “Why do you have to be so tall?"

Mabel furrowed her brow and glanced over her shoulder, staring right through Dipper’s feet. “Well, anyway,” she said, turning back to Bill, “Don't worry about things back here. I'll look out for your body.”

“Thanks,” he said. His body lied in a crumbled, comatose heap on the ground. It hadn't been a minute and he missed it already. It was a strange feeling, craving to return to a vessel. Before, he was happy to leave behind the bodies he’d taken once the fun was over, but not this time. Everything was all wrong.

He took a deep breath, smoothing back his hair one more time. “Let’s go.”

…

Existing in Dipper’s body was challenging enough, but walking in it was like trying to operate a jumbo-sized robot. For the third time, he mistimed his step and fell flat onto his face. Dipper’s ghostly eyes watched him every step of the way. Judgmental prick. They hadn't even reached the mountain yet.

"I think I'm getting a cramp," Bill said.

“Oh, pipe down, I am not  _that_ out of shape.”

Staring right into Dipper’s eyes, Bill held out his arm and shook it, flabby bits jiggling.

Dipper’s nostrils flared and lifted his shirt, showing off his ghostly abs.

“You put those things away!” Dipper snorted and pulled down his shirt. “How about you just shut up and be grateful you’re getting a cardio workout for free?” Bill glared at the ground before glancing over at Dipper again, finding Dipper glaring back at him. A beat passed, and the two chuckled.

They continued their ascent up the hill. He had to admit, Dipper’s body held up. If he were in his own body, doubtless he would already be rolling around on the ground in cramped, breathless agony. As is, they were already halfway up and he was only a touch winded. Perhaps there was something to this whole ‘keeping in shape’ nonsense.

When they reached the top of the hill, they hid in the foliage. A large, brick wall separated them from the manor.

“I can see the force field,” said Dipper, frowning.

“Did you really think I would lie to you about something like that?”

“What? No. I was hoping you wouldn't have to go alone."

“Oh.” Bill dropped his eyes. Great, he’s an ass. “I won’t mess this up. You can trust me.”

Dipper took a deep breath before turning to him with a small smile. “I’m sure I can. Be careful, okay?”

Embarrassment warmed his cheeks. He left, crossing through the barrier. A shudder ran through him.

The gate loomed over him. He pressed his thumb against the pad, wincing as it bit into his finger. For a tense moment, nothing happened and his heart jerked. Then, the gate swung open. Bill resisted the urge to look behind him for reassurance. No turning back now.

He scurried across the massive lawn. Where a doorbell would reside, instead there was a speaker. Okay. He could do this. He schmoozed humans all the time. It was the one part of his old self that has yet to rust away.

As he looked for a button of some kind, a white light flicked on and he jumped.

“Scan initializing,” a cool, female voice said. A robot? “Scan complete. Welcome back, Master Pines.”

“I—”

“Have you completed the errand for Madam Pines?”

Errand? Mirror Dipper must still be looking for them. “Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, right?”

“Task update recorded. I shall inform Madam Pines.”

“ _No_. No, don’t do that. I’ll tell her myself.”

“Notice canceled. Complications again, Master Pines?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Unlocking front door. I hope your discussion with Madame Pines goes well. Sensors indicate changes in vocal cadence and skin tone, a fractured wrist, and increased heart rate. You appear ill. Shall I have medicine sent to your room?”

“Uh, sure, I’ll pick it up later.”

“Request sent. Very good, Master Pines.”

Bill stumbled into the entrance hall, leaning back against the door. His head was spinning. Well. It was about time he got a lucky break. A nervous chuckle snuck its way past his lips. What a terrible security system.

Still. He had kind of been hoping to flourish his charm.

Whatever.

With the initial hurdles clear, Bill relaxed a bit. He could feel the shards pieces again. All he had to do was navigate the mansion and avoid Mirror Mabel. Doubtless, she would be a bit more perceptive than a virtual intelligence.

Piece of cake.

The inside of the mansion was dim. Perhaps this was mirror Mabel’s way of intimidating her guests. Or maybe Mirror Dipper drank a lot and bright lights bothered him. 

Now, where to start? Probably upstairs; it was always a good idea to put your valuables in the most inconvenient of places. He scurried up the grand staircase. Where to next? Left. Why did there have to be so many hallways?

He stayed quiet, struggling to not even breathe too hard. If he were to trigger a trap or, and he hated to even think it, run into Mirror Mabel, then it was all over. Even Bill couldn’t talk his way out of that.

Checking room after room, his notable finds were a dining hall, a sitting room, a gym, and a library. Everything else was either guest bedrooms or just empty rooms. There were so, so many empty rooms.

Goddammit, this place was a maze; he’d find himself in a dead end and have to completely turn around. He was wasting so much time in here. Every second was just another chance of getting caught or of the other Dipper finding the twins _._ This mission was going to fail before it got started.

Leaning up against a wall, he held his face in his hands. Calm. He needed to stay calm. _Breathe._ What did Blondie say to do? Relax. Start with your toes.

He stood there breathing quietly until his heart resumed its natural pace.

Okay.

_Think._

Running around blindly wasn’t solving anything. Perhaps he could take to the Mindscape again? No, he didn’t want to leave Dipper’s body unattended. A map?  _No_. What kind of person has a map of their own house, even one as big as this?

Okay, then where would a person like other Mabel put her stuff, especially stuff she intended to use? Someplace she spends a lot of time in?

What about that sitting room? It hadn’t been too remarkable, but he had noticed the chair seemed worn down for such a ritzy place.

Bill made his way back to the sitting room. There were faint tea stains on the end table. The ashes in the fire grate were warm. Someone spent a lot of time here and he doubted Mirror Dipper drank tea.

The hair on his neck rose. The shards were nearby, maybe in this room. He started looking around. There would be a minute discrepancy somewhere, a chink in the wood, an upset in the dust. It could be anything.

He rubbed his fingers under the lip of the stone fireplace and nudged the books in the bookshelves. When that revealed nothing, he stared at the painting on the wall. Maybe there was a code hidden somewhere inside it.

That was when he noticed the oil stains on the bottom left corner of the frame. The gold plating had been rubbed away. Someone was touching it a lot. He snuck his fingers under the corner and, bingo. A latch. The painting swung upon to reveal a safe.

Triumphant, he recognized the lock; a dimension A95 20λ91 ED cryptex; infamous for its faulty design. There was a trick combination that caused the gears to jam and break apart when hit at the right angle. Even Ford could crack it. How delightfully mundane; the mirror twins must be impressed by anything magical to use this technology this old.

All he needed to do was …

Was …

There, there was a classic fatal flaw in the mechanism, he just needed to—

Bill’s heart stopped.

_What was the fatal flaw?_

_You just need to … shift the keys and …_

His mind was blank. He couldn’t remember. The shards were right under his nose and he  _couldn’t remember how to break open the lock._

The mission failed. The twins were going to be captured and tortured and never get home and it would be all his fault but he  _promised_ —

_Dipper._

Choking on his panic, Bill fled the room.

…

Mabel paced, contemplating the phone in her hand. She brought it back up to her ear. “If I were Mirror Mabel, I would have already arrested you or something, right?”

“Well, what if you’re just biding your time and trying to find other conspirators?” the tinny voice said. Hope welled in Mabel’s chest; there are other people willing to fight?

“You already ripped up all the dollar bills you had, right?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re using a phone booth like Gideon said?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“Then they can’t trace the call. I promise you’re safe, Wendy.”

Mirror Wendy sighed from the other end of the line. There were years of misery in that sigh. “I just don’t know what you’re expecting us to do. We can’t help you get back to your world.”

“You actually believe that garbage about ‘alternate dimensions’?” another voice said and Mabel rolled her eyes.

“I’ve seen a lot of weird things around here, okay?” said Wendy. “What are you even doing in this call, Paz?”

“I dunno. That Gideon kid gave me a number and told me to call if I was sick of those booger-nosed brats. I always like to ruin their day.”

“So, you’re just here to cause trouble.” Mirror Wendy sighed. “Great, just who we need on the team.”

“Where is Gideon, anyway?” asked Mabel.

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s spreading the word around a bit more.”

 _I hope he’s being careful_. “This isn’t about getting me home. We already have a plan for that. This is about  _you_ guys and  _your_ world. I want to help in any way I can.”

“What exactly are you expecting us to do?”

“Stage a rebellion or something. A coup, a rally,  _something_. These other Pines’ are crazy and need to get their butts kicked.”

“Are you nuts?” said Pacifica. “Those guys own the world and they have  _magic_. What are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t know exactly. But all the best uprisings got to start somewhere, right?”

“I don’t even live here,” said Wendy. “I travel all around Oregon with my family’s troupe.”

“Gideon said they took his mom. What’s to stop them from swallowing up the whole town? What’s to stop them from coming after your family next, even if you’re in Portland or something?”

There was a pained pause. “Nothing. Nothing can stop them.”

“Nothing’s unstoppable.”

“What are you even suggesting we do?”

Mabel sat on the bed where she had plopped the comatose Bill. “First, we teach you some ways to protect yourselves from their magic. My brother and grunkle are super well read on that kind of stuff. So’s my buddy, Bill.”

“What’s a grunkle?” Pacifica asked.

“Second, find other people who wanna go against them, too. If they’re as much of a big shot as you’ve said, then they’ve pissed off a bunch of other people too, right? Powerful people?”

“I guess,” Wendy said. “I remember there was this huge lawsuit with them and Private Corp last year. Maybe—”

Pacifica made a frustrated noise. “Look, if those big guys wanted to take down the twins, they would’ve done it by now. Who are you to tell us to go bust their faces in when you already got one foot out the door?”

“That’s not true,” Mabel said. Dipper wasn’t going to like this. “I don’t have to leave. I can stay and—”

There was a knock on the door. Mabel leaped to her feet, stunned. This place was abandoned, how could anyone know they were here?

“Mabel?” said a voice through the door.

Gideon!

She whispered into the phone, “I’ve gotta go.”

“Ma—?” She cut the voice off and stared at the door, heart pounding.

“Mabel? Are you in there? It’s me, Gideon.”

“Y-yeah. How did you know where we were?”

“I saw you after your fight with, with Mister Pines. I didn’t know if I should come but you looked hurt. I went to the store to get some medical stuff.”

She glanced over at the unconscious Bill. His head wound had stopped bleeding but still needed to be properly taped up. Some antibiotics or pain pills couldn’t hurt either. She looked through the peephole; Gideon was alone. “Okay. Thanks. But it isn’t a good idea for you to be here, you know,” she said as she opened the door. “The other twins could—”

Gideon pointed a gun at her with unsteady hands. Mabel tried to slam the door shut but a hand shot forward and forced it open. Mirror Dipper stood in the doorway, smiling.

“You’re such a welcoming host, you know that?” He shoved the door open and sauntered into the room. Mabel scurried away; Gideon kept the gun trained on her. “I’ve never felt more at home.”

“I make a point not to host psychopaths,” Mabel said.“Get out.”

“Make me. Wait, you already tried that. You know, you're a damn good fighter. You should work out with me in the gym. I can tutor you, free of charge.”

“Hard pass. How did you even know I was here?”

“Oh, that was easy. Just popped in your phone number and tracked you down.” Mirror Dipper wiggled his phone with the GPS screen. “Isn’t technology great? You can thank this little guy for handing over the digits.” He gestured to Gideon and Mabel turned to him, mouth agape.

“Gideon?”

Gideon shook his head. “I’m sorry. I wanted … I wanted to help—”

“Yeah, you can shut up now.” Mirror Dipper glanced over at Bill and his smile became lecherous. “Oh, I’m so glad he’s here.” He reached towards his body. “Seriously, how were you able to land that twerp such a fine—”

Enraged, Mabel smacked his hand away. “Don’t touchhim.”

Smile unwavering, Mirror Dipper looked at her with a cool eye.

She held her head up. "Back off."

"Shoot her."

The gun went off and Mabel screamed. The bullet had missed and lodged in the wall but the sound of the shot rang in her ears. Full-bodied shivers shook her and she collapsed on the other bed.

Dipper approached the bed, smiling down at Bill’s limp body before sitting down next to him. He touched Bill’s face, smoothing his thumbs over his eyelids and plucking at the ends of his hair. Gideon’s gun kept rattling.

“So,” Dipper said as he was inspecting Bill’s teeth. “Where’s the other one?”

Clutching her chest, Mabel struggled to breath, her heart racing. “Other one?”

“You know. The other me. Pale, malnourished, looks like a total chump. Can’t help but notice he’s missing in your little group of misfits.”

“He. He went to go get help.” She licked her lips. “For Bill.”

Dipper  _tsk_ ’d. He pulled back Bill’s sleeves, exposing the binding marks on his wrists. “Sweet tattoo. My sister told me about them. Something about trauma and rituals and  _blah blah blah blah_. Basically, bad stuff happens if someone were to, say, skin them off, right?” He pulled out the plasma switchblade from his pocket. “So. Where’s your twerp brother?”

If she could just run fast enough, maybe she could knock the gun out of Gideon's hand—

“You’re taking too long.” He slit Bill’s wrist. Blood welled up in the cut. Mabel screamed and lunged. Dipper held the knife to Bill’s other wrist and she stopped. “I’m a busy guy, you know. I don’t have time for you to think up any harebrained schemes. So, tell me where he is.”

He’s not bluffing. He’s got no reason to bluff.But if she told him, it would just put Dipper and Bill in more danger.

“Too late.” He slashed the other wrist.

“ _STOP—!_ ”

“Look, kiddo.” Dipper hopped to his feet, holding the knife under her chin. “Here’s how this is gonna play out. You’re gonna spend another minute quivering in your cute boots and then you’re going to come to your senses and tell me where your brother is. If you don’t, I’m going to torture your pretty friend. I’m going to take my time with it and you’re going to watch. Hopefully, he’ll wake up and I’ll start having even more fun. Then I’ll kill him and start torturing you. My sis only needs you alive and, you know, I think I can push those limits a bit _._ ”

Mabel swallowed back her curses, heat welling up behind her eyes.

“And that’d be, like, great and all, but it would also take a whole bunch of time. Mabs is already _super_ pissed I forgot to get you guys in the first time and she doesn’t like waiting. If you just gave up your brother and come quiet, you could save us both some trouble.” He pressed the knife into her throat. “So, what’ll it be?”

If she fought, Gideon would shoot her and Mirror Dipper would destroy Bill. If she blabbed, they’ll all be caught. But alive.

“Fine,” she said. “Just don’t hurt him. Please.”

Dipper backed up and inclined his head. “Sure. For now, anyway.” He winked.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re really starting to get on my nerves. Talk.”

She talked.

…

Dipper chewed his transparent fingernails. It had been over an hour and Bill still wasn’t back yet. That idiot had better be okay.

He switched hands and kept chewing.

It’s a big house, it makes sense he’d take so long. But what if he was hurt? Mirror Mabel could have found him by now. Images of Bill being chained to a wall and beaten filled his head and he struggled to banish them.

What if Bill didn’t come back? He needed a backup plan. He would have to find a vessel of some kind, like a sock or a scarecrow, and go back to Mabel. Once they regrouped, they would go back to the mirror Stan; he might know something that could help them. At the very least, he could provide shelter as they figured out a way to rescue Bill—

He stopped, took a deep breath. Bill was smart and resourceful. He could pull this off.

Then, the forcefield, huge and iridescent, faded away. Dipper stared, shocked. Forcefields couldn’t deactivate unless the bindings were tampered with or the caster died. He floated towards the house, looking for Bill. It may have been a trap, but it couldn’t make much difference being out here anyway. At least he could be with Bill.

 _There_. A familiar face stood in an upper-level window. He flew to the closed window and phased through the glass. “What happened to force field?”

“I broke one of the power sources,” Bill said. “Mirror Mabel is sure to notice if she looks outside so we need to hurry.”

“Why would you dothat?” Dipper said, incredulous, but Bill had already sprinted off. Dipper followed. “Why did you break the forcefield?”

“I needed you here,” Bill said, not looking at him. “I found the shards and the safe. You’ll know how to break the lock; I know Ford put it in one of his books.”

They entered a study room and Bill led him to a swung open portrait. He stared at the look, trying to remember it’s page in the journals. “Yeah, I think I do remember this. Can’t you break it by aligning the 3, delta, and Aquarius symbols at a 45° angle and popping it?”

Bill groaned and nodded and began tampering with the lock. Dipper waited for further instructions but Bill didn’t say anything as he busted it open. He could see the picnic basket inside.

“Was that it?” Dipper asked. Bill still wouldn’t look at him. “Was that seriously it? You shut down the forcefield for that? Why didn’t you just—”

Bill pulled out the basket and closed the painting before he finally looked up at Dipper. He looked embarrassed. Ashamed?

Oh.

Dipper hit his forehead. “I’m a dick.”

That earned him a tiny smirk. “A little.” Bill put the strap over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

He rushed out the door. Dipper blinked and chased after him.

“Wait, Bill—”

“Now seriouslyisn’t the time, Pine Tree.”

“I just— I’m sorry.” Bill didn’t respond, glancing up and down the hallway before dashing away again. “Bill—”

The  _tap-tapping_ of shoes interrupted him. A figure turned the corner of the hallway. She held a phone to her ear.

“Yes, I found them near the portrait room,” said Mirror Mabel. Dipper’s throat tightened. “You can bring the others back now. Good job not completely mucking it this time.” She hung up the phone. Her expression was cold, completely foreign from the Mabel he knew. She held up her hand. “I admire the effort.”

Bill’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and he slumped onto the ground.

“ _Bill._ ”

Something incorporeal tugged at Dipper’s chest and dragged him onto the floor. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his physical body. He tried to stand but his legs were weak.  _Bill. Bill._

“What did you do to him?”

“You don’t need to know.”

She made a motion with her fingers and a portal appeared underneath Dipper, swallowing him whole.

…

The Pines Manor sat loudly on top of the mountain. Mabel gulped. This was it.

Mirror Dipper held a gun to the back of her neck; he had flung Bill over his shoulder, bleeding wrists wrapped in bedsheets. Gideon had been dismissed long ago, terrified and sad. Mabel couldn’t even blame him. Hopefully, Wendy or Pacifica weren’t in any danger of her stupidity.

They reached the gate. Mirror Dipper pressed the gun to her head.

“Go on. Put your thumb on the pad.”

“Why?”

“Humor me.”

She did as told, wincing as the pad bit her thumb and drew blood. The gate opened. He chuckled.

“Man, that is hilarious. Pretty cheeky of you guys. Never would have thought about us sharing DNA and all.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.”

He laughed and shoved her forward with the butt of the gun. “You’re so adorable.”

They walked across the lawn and Mirror Dipper shepherded her through the front door. It closed behind them with an ominous slam. She eyed her surroundings for something to help her. A red carpet, some paintings, vases filled with plants. Could she use the vases as a bludgeoning device? No, too far. Everything was too far. How could there be so much junk and all of it be useless?

She was crowded into a large study area. On the floor sat Dipper, her Dipper, encased in a small, blue force field.

“About time you came back,” a dull voice said, insidiously familiar. Mirror Mabel stood in the corner of the room, flicking through a recognizable red book. Mirror Stan’s journal. “I was beginning to think you had stopped for lunch.”

“I thought about it,” said Mirror Dipper.

Mirror Mabel rolled her eyes and gestured to the force field. Dipper was watching Mabel with wide eyes. Fresh shame washed over her.

Without any ceremony, Mirror Dipper shoved Mabel onto the floor. She phased right through the force field and Dipper held her shoulder to steady her.

She expected Mirror Dipper to toss the comatose Bill after her, but instead, he hung him by the hoodie on a coat rack. Bill’s head lolled to the side like a ragdoll.

“I think I might keep this one,” he said. Dipper and Mabel bristled and Mirror Mabel made a noise of disgust.

“Please keep your perversions to yourself,” she said. Mirror Dipper chuckled darkly.

Mabel squeezed Dipper’s elbow. “What happened? Where’s Bill?”

“Mirror Mabel did something to him. He was kicked out of my body. I don’t know where he is.”

“What do you know about force fields?”

“Nothing beyond the basics, really. Ford never really wrote about them.”

Chewing her lip, Mabel turned to the mirror twins. Mirror Mabel continued pursuing her journal, occasionally flicking her wrist.

“What are you going to do to us?” Mabel asked

Mirror Mabel flicked her eyes up. “Currently, I’m readying a spell that will pacify your inner subconscious and allow me to control your bodies from a remote distance. You’ll be positioned here, acting in our stead, while the two of us expand our empire into your dimension.”

They were going to turn them into puppets? Mabel imagined it, getting her head stuffed full of cotton and living the rest of her life as a zombie, completely unaware of anything. Of all the horrible things to do …

“Wait, that’s what we’re doing?” said Mirror Dipper. “What happened to the clown thing?”

Mirror Mabel groaned. “We’ve been over this three times, Mason.”

“My plan is better; yours is totally boring. What if their world doesn’t even have death pits?”

“I’m sure you’ll find sufficient entertainment.”

“You can’t do this,” Mabel said. Two sets of eyes swiveled onto her. “You just can’t be this evil.” The memory of Mirror Stan, miserable and alone, came back to her. “Grunkle Stan is still waiting for you to come home.”

Mirror Mabel mouthed the word ‘Grunkle’ with furrowed brows while Mirror Dipper straightened up.

“You’ve seen the old man?” he said, fidgeting with his switchblade.

Mabel nodded. “Yeah, and he still loves you, so you can’t be all that bad, right?” Mirror Dipper looked even more uncomfortable. “When we saw him and he thought we were you, he started crying because he was so happy you came home.”

Mirror Dipper glanced at Mirror Mabel, but she kept her eyes fixed on the journal. He licked his lips. “Sis—”

“Don’t even start,” she said, voice dangerously low. “I’m sick of your bellyaching over that. Let it go.”

Mirror Dipper furrowed his brow, but crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, sullen. Mabel opened her mouth but pain erupted under her eyelids and she screamed.

“That’ll be enough from you,” said Mirror Mabel, lowering her hand. She looked up from her journal. “Let's get started.”

...

Bill woke up with a roaring headache. Just when he thought the universe was tired of kicking his ass, there was still more karma to be wrought. He groaned and rubbed his head, opening his eyes. He blinked. Surrounding him was utter darkness. Mindscape? What was happening?

The shards. The mirror twins’ manor. Dipper.  _Dipper_.

“Is anyone there?” he called out, standing up. He closed his eyes; he sensed something out there. “I know you’re here. We can talk about this.”

Silence.

“Where’s the kid?”

Silence.

He clenched his fists. “Look, I can leave this place any time, buddy. I’m staying put out of courtesy to you. So how about you do the polite thing and come on out.” It was a bluff, but desperate time called for desperate lies.

It was only due to how intently he was listening that he could hear the soft sigh. “I promise we can keep things civil, pal. I just want to talk.”

A shadow took form in the darkness; a familiar triangle demon. Bill swallowed. “I knew you had something to do with this. I should’ve made a bet.”

Mirror Bill fidgeted, wringing a frayed top hat in his hands.

Bill sneered. “You’re seriously working with these chumps?”

“Hey, man, you don’t know how things work in this dimension,” Mirror Bill said, his large eye narrowed. Bill snorted and rolled his eye. “I’m serious. I’m sure your dimension is nice and swell, but here, everybody’s a jerk, okay?”

“Yes, well, I’m awesome, so I guess it makes sense that you would be a total spineless wimp.”

“Yeah, well. You, you’re trapped in the Mindscape and your friends are gonna get their minds turned to sludge. You can’t be that awesome, right?”

Bill frowned. “What? Sludge? What do you mean?”

“I, uh, well. It’s just something I overheard. There’s nothing you can do, okay?”

“What’s happening? Did they catch Pine Tree? Shooting Star?”

“Just, don’t worry about it. I can probably get you out of here if you keep your head down, but you can’t cause any trouble, alright? Madam Pines wasn’t that interested in you.”

“What’s happening?”

“I, uh. Uh.” The hat was falling apart in Mirror Bill’s hands. “I overheard Madam Pines wanting to explore this new dimension. She’s been wanting to expand her business. But she doesn’t trust anyone to do it for her and she doesn’t want to leave her business behind. So, she’s, uh, she’s going to …”

“She’s going to make them puppets,” Bill said. She’s going to scoop out their insides and replace them with sheep’s wool. They’d be worse than dead. He needed to do something.  _He needed to do something_. “You have to get me out of here. You can’t let this happen.”

“Me? What can I do?”

“Let me out of here. I can fight them.”

“Yeah, right, buddy. You can't even get into their heads. They have those talismans.”

"You can rip them off.”

“I can’t do anything like that, bud. I have a contract, I can’t just go around breaking it.”

“What’s the contract?”

“Uh, well, they give me protection and I provide unconditional services and also I’m not allowed to betray them or anything.

Never had Bill wanted to strangle something more. “Why would you sign a contract like that, you idiot?”

Mirror Bill twiddled his fingers. “They were persuasive,”

Clapping his forehead, Bill groaned. “Where are the twins? Are they nearby?”

“I, uh, don’t know. Let me check.” The other Bill summoned a small looking glass. The twins were on the ground, encased in a gentle blue forcefield. The garbage version of the twins were standing idly by.

Then, Mirror Mabel said, “We’re ready to begin.”

They were starting and he _couldn’t do anything._ “You have to do something. Look, if you’re the other version of me that must mean you, like, care about people and their wellbeing and crap, right?”

“I. Well, yeah-”

“Do you know how many people are going to be hurt by this? You're letting at least two dimensions worth of people suffer, and for what? Because you're a snivelly coward. Please. I can’t let this happen, I just can’t, not to them. They don’t deserve this. You have to help me.”

“I can’t do anything,” Mirror Bill said. “I have a contract with them, for Pete’s sake. I have to obey any order they give me.”

Bill chewed his bottom lip. “What was the exact wording of your contract? Do you have it?”

“I mean, yeah. What kind of idiot doesn’t keep his contracts on him?” With a snap of his fingers, the magical contract appeared. “Let’s see. ‘I, Bill Cipher, promise to—”

“Just give it to me.”

Huffing, Mirror Bill handed it over and Bill skimmed through it again and again, mumbling it under his breath. How did they get him to sign such a one-sided contract? And it was clearly written by a master; no obvious loopholes presented themselves.

Then, he stumbled over a piece of wording and grinned.

“I have something.”

Mirror Bill’s eye brightened. “What is it?”

“Save my guys and I’ll tell you.”

The other Bill twisted his hat. With shaking hands, he put the hat on his head. “I think I might know something that can help.”

...

Mirror Mabel chanted low under her breath, cutting over Mabel’s pleading.

“You can’t do this,” she said, ignored. Groaning, she rubbed her eyelids. Her fault, this was all her fault, if she just hadn’t been so stupid she wouldn’t have gotten caught and maybe they would have had more time to figure something out—

“Miss, Miss Pines?”

Mabel gasped and looked around. “Bill?”

Dipper looked over at her with wide eyes.

“Well, yes and no,” the voice said. It was talking in her head. “Your friend is here with me and I think I know something that might help you.”

“What is it?”

“That force field you’re in? It never breaks unless the caster calls the spell off.”

Mabel wanted to scream. “Not helpful.”

“What’s happening?” Dipper asked. Mabel quickly explained the situation to him. When he heard Bill was okay, he relaxed.

The voice continued, “The spell comes with a built-in failsafe in case the caster ever gets trapped inside. And since you’re technically the caster, I think you’ll be able to pull it off.”

That’s a handy loophole. Still, Mabel frowned. “You think or you know?”

“I think,” the voice said, sheepish. “Look, it’s the only thing you got. What you need to do is cut your hand, put some blood on the field and say this phrase ...” He whispered it. Mabel strained her ears.

“Q-queso?”

“ _Cess_ _ō_ _._ ”

He helped her through the pronunciation, all the while Mirror Mabel mumbled her own enchantments. Mabel licked her lips, sweat trickling down her forehead.

“Okay, so what happens once we break through this dumb shield?”

“See the talismans?”

Mirror Dipper still had his orange pine tree bracelet while Mirror Mabel has a darkened shooting star earring.

“Yeah, I see them.”

“You need to get it off them. Once that’s done, your friend can get inside their heads and incapacitate them.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. Bro, you take out the other me. I’ll go for the meathead.” With her fingernails, she pinched the bite from the DNA gate scanner until it was bleeding again. “Okay, okay.” She cradled her hand to her side. “Okay. On my mark.” Taking a deep breath, she slowly removed her shoe. She’d need a distraction.

She pressed her thumb against the force field and whispered the phrase.

“ _Cess_ _ō_.”

It fizzled beneath her fingertips. Before the other twins could look up, Mabel chucked her shoe at Mirror Dipper. It hit him square on the forehead and in his confusion, she charged at him and clobbered his nose, grabbing his bracelet. He swiveled and clocked her in the jaw with his elbow, but his turning made the bracelet snap in Mabel’s hand. 

His eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the ground. Did she kill him? Someone screamed. Mirror Mabel was clutching her bleeding earlobe before she fell onto the ground, still.

The room was quiet save for their labored breathing.

“Is that it?” she asked, afraid to speak too loudly. Dipper breathed heavily.

“Maybe? I think so.”

She plucked the bloodied earring out of his hand. “That was so hardcore, bro. Let’s get out of here.”

Mabel grabbed Bill's body and flung him over her shoulder. Dipper picked up the picnic basket and as they were about leave, he saw the plasma switchblade. Mirror Dipper must have dropped it. He stared. Shaking himself, he followed Mabel out the door.

…

Mason woke up gasping, clutching his chest. Cheeky bitch.

Pushing himself up, he looked around. His sister was stumbling to her feet next to him. They were in the middle of a black void.

“The hell is this?” he said.

“We’re in the Mindscape, you idiot,” Mabel said, dusting off her blazer. “They took off our talismans. This must be the work of their Cipher demon. We’ll have to take care of him.”

“Got it in one.”

The voice came from behind and they turned around. A young man wearing a yellow suit and a neat top hat stood there, leaning on a black cane. It was the other Bill and he was smiling.

Mason snorted. “Oh, I was looking forward to playing around with you, too.”

Bill’s smile turned into a sneer. “You see, that implies that the game isn’t already over.”

“I don’t have time for this,” said Mabel and she called out, “ _Cipher._ ”

The call echoes on and on and on and on. No answer. Mabel frowns and Bill laughs. There was something disturbing about that sound.

“I think it’s time for a little lesson in humility,” said Bill. “You ever wo—”

Like a crumpling paper ball, his head collapsed in on itself. He fell, dead, his hat tumbling into the darkness. Mabel straightens her cuffs, bored.

“Naïve, thinking he’s the only one who knows how the Mindscape works. Come on, Mason, we need to find a way to contact Cipher.”

Mason was about to agree when a pillar of fire erupted from the ground, encasing his sister in its blistering heat. Her screams were guttural and loud and Mason inhaled the scent of burnt flesh. The pillar disappeared and she collapsed, completely unscathed save for her wide eyes and trembling.

“As I was saying,” Bill said, now smiling down on them from high above, standing on nothing. Mason’s heart pounded. “You guys ever wonder why little kids are so scared of the dark? It’s because they don’t know what’s in it, right? Adults think they do.”

Far, far in the darkness, a pair of glowing, yellow eyes blinked at them. The glow illuminated a writhing mass of distorted figures. What was once quiet was now filled with moist, squirming noises. An aura of ravenous hunger smothered him.

“That’s why I think kids are so smart,” Bill continued. “They know that they don’t know anything. You two think you’re big and important and smart and powerful and all grown up because you got your hands on some magic toys, but you’re not. You think you can do everything you want forever, but you can’t. That’s why I made this dream for you. This is a tour of the dark and it’s gonna last as long as it takes for you to see that a little stolen magic won’t make you top dog anywhere.”

This pompous little prick. Masson swallowed and summoned an axe. “You think we’re just going to take this, you little creep?”

“You’re going to suffer,” Mabel said venomously, standing and summoning a knife. “I’ll dissect you like a bug.”

Another gentle chuckle. “You guys really don’t seem to get it.”

The masses surged. Dead white hands rose out of the ground and pulled them down with a splash. He treaded the thick liquid and sucked in a breath, nearly gagging at the coppery smell.

“This is my place,” Bill said. “These are the bumps of the night. You can’t even imagine the things in here with you.”

“ _CIPHER_.” The desperation in Mabel’s voice shocked Mason, who’s never heard her so much as shout. “You can’t just ignore us, we have a _contract_ —”

Like melting wax, her mouth slipped off her face and splashed into the blood pool. She clawed at the smooth skin left behind, breathing sharply through her nose. Bill held up a finger.

“Funny thing about that contract, actually. You see, my name is Bill Cipher, too. So anytime you try to bark an order at him, he’s free to assume you’re talking to me. Pretty funny loophole, right? Man, I should really be a lawyer.” Slowly, Bill lowered until he was just above their heads. “Now, the only words I want to hear from you right now are ‘we surrender, we’ve learned our lesson, what do you want from us?’ and since that doesn’t seem to be happening …”

He reached down and ripped Mason’s mouth off as though it were tape. Mason screamed, muffled.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be needing those. Let me show you what you have to do.”

In the distance, a beam of light split the void in half. Their Cipher demon floated there, waving shyly.

“Once your lesson sinks in, just head on over to my friend here and shake his hand. That’ll mean you agree to let him out of his contract and to never use magic again. Your tour will be over and you’ll wake up safe. Not sound, though. Getting familiar with what really lurks in the shadows would leave any human unsound. But still, safe. Well. See you around!”

He disappeared. The noises around him seemed louder now. Mason turned to Mabel and saw his terror reflected in her eyes. The creatures lumbered towards them and they were pulled further into the blood until it filled their noses, their ears, their eyes, and they were completely submerged.

…

Dipper and Mabel had just reached the outskirts of the forest when Bill woke up, gasping and clutching his throat.

“Oh, thank Moses,” said Mabel. Bill swallowed, then swallowed again, and made his way to shaky feet.

“Are you okay?” Dipper asked. “What happened in there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I—” Suddenly, he hissed and held his hands to his chest, sinking to his knees. He pulled back the sleeves of his hoodie and, to Dipper’s horror, revealed blood-crusted wrists.

Dipper sunk to the ground next to him, dizzy with terror. “How did this happen?”

“It was the other Dipper,” Mabel said, voice hollow, “when he found us at the motel.”

Gently taking one of Bill’s hands, he examined the wound. “Okay. It’s okay, it wasn’t too deep. We need to sterilize it. Can you walk?”

Bill shook his head, whimpering. His chest tightened and he looked up at Mabel. “What happened?”

Gripping her sweater sleeve, she stared down at her feet. “Gideon. He helped them.” She swallowed, eyelashes wet. “He, uh, gave them my phone number and tracked us down that way.”

Lips thinning, Dipper rubbed his face, breathing harshly. “Why did you even give him your number in the first place?”

“I wanted to help. I wanted everyone to stand up for themselves against those monsters.”

It was so hard to be patient and understanding with Bill’s mangled hands in front of him. “I know why you wanted to help. But we told you to drop it. Look what happened.”

“I didn’t know,” Mabel said, voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Star,” Bill said softly. “Let’s just go.”

Mabel helped them to their feet. They reached the mirror. The smoky darkness still swirled in the center of the tree. Careful not to cut their fingers, they slowly reassembled the glass. Once the last piece went it, the mirror glimmered and the fractures resealed themselves until it was whole again.

As Bill pressed his fingers on the glass, the light returned, and it began slowly swallowing his hand until he passed through and was gone. Mabel did the same. Dipper stepped through the mirror. On the other side, dawn was traded out for a dusky, starlit sky.

There went his sleeping schedule.

The walk back to the Shack was uncomfortably silent. In the kitchen, they helped Bill clean and bandage his wrists. When they were done, Mabel sighed.

“I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

Dipper nodded and would have left it alone, but her bereft expression compelled him to say, “It’s okay, Mabel. Your heart was in the right place, you know?”

Trying to smile, she shrugged. “It’s okay, Dipper. You don’t have to be nice.”

Not knowing what to say, Dipper watched her go. He then turned to Bill sitting at the kitchen table.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For, well, everything, I guess. The way I've been acting I around you lately. For," Dipper swallowed, "for when I act like a paranoid idiot in the future. Because I will. That's what I do, I guess."

"Well, at least you're honest with yourself," said Bill with a smirk. "You're not an idiot, Pine Tree. A bit on the paranoid side, sure, but it's not like you're without reason. I can be honest with myself, too."

"Yeah. I just hate feeling like this."

Chewing his lip, Bill shyly glanced up at him. "So, do you, um, want to keep talking about the memory stuff?”

"Oh, well, that was— You don't need to worry about it."

"No, it's okay. I think, uh, I think it'll be good to get this off my chest, you know? Wait here."

All Dipper wanted to do was go to bed but Bill had already gone up to the attic. Well, he guessed he could wait a few more minutes. He made some coffee and settled down at the kitchen table. Distantly, something crashed onto the floor and Bill returned soon afterward, cradling a stack of journals in his hand. They were the ones Bill had been scribbling in for the last few weeks.

Bill placed them on the table and held out one. "This is the first one I started, back after the beach house stuff."

Opening to the first page, his eyes popped at the incomprehensible language written down. "What is this?"

"Oh, just some universe stuff and old lore stuff and, well, stuff. I started this to kind of keep a lid on everything leaking out of my head, you know? I got the idea from your journals, actually, and, you know, flatland was my first language so it made sense to write in it."

Old lore? Flatland? That sounded interesting. "So, what does it say?"

Bill glanced at the book. "Well, this first section was about, uh," he frowned. His eyebrows pinched together and he tried mouthing the words. "Something about, uh, the celestial towers and ..." He closed his mouth and looked down at his hands. "I actually can't read it anymore."

“Oh.” Dipper looked back to the journal, slowly flipping through it. Some pages had diagrams. What he wouldn’t give to know what it said. All this knowledge, lost. “It was a good idea, at least.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Bill was frowning, staring at his twiddling thumbs. “It’s,” he started, then he cleared his throat. “It’s like trying to remember a dream. You know, the more you try to remember, the more slippery it gets?” He took a shuddering breath. “That’s what it’s like. Yeah. And trying to remember gives me a giant headache.”

“That sounds scary.”

“Yeah, it is. But, I don’t know. I guess there were some things I didn’t like remembering, anyway. And I can make new memories.” He turned to Dipper, smiling softly. “I can make new memories with you guys, which I wouldn’t have gotten to do if I was still like, well, before.”

“Yeah.” Dipper squeezed his arm, trying to think of the right words. “It’s awful that you’re forgetting all of that. But if I had to choose between knowing stuff and you being here? I mean, I’m happy with the way things worked out.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed, but a small smile crept onto Bill’s face.

“Good to know, Pine Tree. I think I’m turning in, too.” He gestured to the journals. “You can do whatever you want with those.”

“Thanks.”

Bill left the room and Dipper continued pursuing the pages. Eventually, the words became English and the format resembled a diary entry more than anything else.

‘ _So there I was_ ’ _,_ Bill had written, ‘ _a mind-bending demon from beyond space, lying naked on the floor._ ’

Dipper snorted. What a way to start a story. He read through Bill’s summary of his first few days at the Shack. The details were unclear and vague as if Bill couldn’t remember much. Which, yeah, made sense. Sleep deprivation did that to a guy.

‘ _After my first night of actual sleeping, I felt pretty good! Human bodies are weak and pathetic but there’s a lot of interesting things you can do with them. I wanted to get out of the house and do something with Pine Tree but, just my top-of-the-line luck, I guess, I got ripped to shreds by that ignorant, smelly rougaru pack. What a bummer!_ ’

Dipper tried to smile at Bill morbid casualness but couldn’t put any heart into it. He continued reading, the handwriting becoming more relaxed as it went on.

‘ _I could tell from the minute I saw Blondie, she was a two-for-one deal on a box of moron macaroni. I didn’t know how the twins put up with her. She turned out to be pretty okay in the end, at least, even if her outfits are horrifically tacky.’_

Wow, he needed to call Pacifica and tell her Bill thinks she was ‘pretty okay’. She would be shocked he thought so highly of her.

The entries went on and on, describing Dipper and Bill’s fight over Pacifica to their 20th birthday party. Bill seemed to catch up to himself as the entries became less summaries and more stream-of-consciousness.

‘ _So Mabel and I went to the arcade today and I finally got to play that one arcade game with me in it! It was actually kind of really bad but it’s nice to know the townsfolk appreciated me._

 _‘Can grapefruit be considered a fruit?’_ There was a picture of a stick figure scowling at what he could only assume was a grapefruit.

‘ _4-9-16-16-5-18 9-19 1 2-21-20-20-8-5-1-4_

_'Me and Dipper had a TV marathon last night and the show he picked was terrible. I mean, truly, laughably terrible. How can a kid that smart watch something so dumb?_

_‘It’s not so bad, I guess._

_‘EQUIVOGUE EQUIVOGUE EQUIVOGUE EQUIVOGUE TULIPS TULIPS TULIPS_

_‘I wish I could tear out my eyelashes. Mabel says I have very nice eyelashes, though. I should donate my eyelashes to her._

‘ _Mabel’s been having me and Dipdot helping her out with her statue and I hate it but the statue is also kind of nice. Maybe she can make a statue of me someday._

_‘Sixer showed up yesterday-’_

Ice slithered into his stomach. Dipper closed the journal and rubbed his eyelids, unsure if he wanted to keep going.

He should. Bill trusted him with his private thoughts. It wouldn’t be right to back out now because he was squeamish.

Pouring himself another cup of coffee, he worked up the nerve before continuing.

‘S _ixer showed up yesterday and, boy, did it go about as you would expect. The guy poured acid on my feet! Acid! Who just has acid lying around! The twins got me before Sixer could blow up my soul, at least. That’s another favor I owe them. I got them presents for their birthday, even if they were awful. Fez helped me out. He’s a good guy._

_'Sixer probably told them everything. Dip seemed a bit cagey with me. Can’t say I blame him. But maybe I’m just imagining it. I hope so._

_‘Sixer leaves at the end of the week._

_'Dipper’s been weird. Didn’t really talk during dinner._

_'Mabel’s weird, too._

_‘I’m going to miss Fez._

_‘It's been pretty quiet.'_

That was the latest entry. Dipper closed the books, sighing.

As he was cleaning up the kitchen, he unloaded the picnic basket and Ford’s journals inside. An idea came to him. He flipped open to a familiar page, took a pen, and added an update.

On Bill’s page under  _Do Not Summon_ , he wrote,  _Summoned. Not That Bad, Actually._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/).
> 
> For updates, news, and sneak peaks of future installments, follow [@definingbillcipher](http://definingbillcipher.tumblr.com/).)


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